


Dragon in the Ashes

by Nehasy



Series: Dragon in the Ashes [1]
Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Seduction, Blow Jobs, Child Death, Child Torture, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Let's face it the Madoushi are monsters, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Relationship(s), Suicide Attempt, Teamwork, Torture, dragons were harmed in the making of this story, longfic, some homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 320,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehasy/pseuds/Nehasy
Summary: The war has been over for nearly six months when a simple tour of the Astorian border goes horribly wrong.  Dilandau is back and he's not particularly happy about it.  Allen has to try to hide his nemesis/sibling or risk losing any chance of getting Celena back but Fate isn't finished with the Schezar's yet.  Something dark is rearing its head, born from the ruins of the war and it will put everyone's loyalty and resolve into question.





	1. Birth

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in over a decade and my first one for Vision of Escaflowne which is amusing since it's been my favourite anime for nearly 20 years... gods I'm old. I always felt a little down about how Dilandau's story arch ended and always felt that there should be more to his and Allen's dysfunctional story. Seriously, the Schezar's are such a messed up family! This work has not been Beta'd, so if there are any glaring errors, please let me know!

 

 

Peace, silence.  Everything was warm and quiet here, allowing him to float through the nothingness unhindered and unimpeded by either past present or future.  There were no thoughts to trouble him and no memories to weigh him down.  Time had no meaning here.  This was a place of tranquility and sweet oblivion. 

He wasn’t sure when he became cognisant.  It began so subtly at first.  In the beginning, it was the simple awareness of self.  Existence, after such an extended period of nothingness was jarring to say the least.  Instincts began to stir, urging him to move, to look and explore this strange prison.  Following closely was the realization that he had no eyes to look or body to move.  Had he a face, his brows would have furrowed in confusion even as his lips would have twisted into a snarl of challenge. 

Time began to have meaning, and with each passing moment he sensed impending change.  The once empty void grew darker as pressure began to squeeze him from all sides.  That strange blissful lassitude drained away, leaving a disturbing sense of anxiety which only seemed to grow.

The pressure around him rippled and something flickered through his consciousness.  There was a flash of brightness, twisting and hot.  Beautiful?  The concept bounced around in his mind as his thoughts struggled to achieve definition.   Heat, burning…fire.  Yes, he remembered fire, felt it fill him with its voracious power.  Fire had been so pure, so vicious and uncompromising.  It felt no pity, no remorse and it burned everything away, leaving only the softest of ash. 

Without realizing it, his awareness drifted closer to the surface, drawn by the heat.  More senses opened up to him, filling the nothingness and quickly overwhelming him with information his brain wasn’t ready to comprehend.

The void was gone now, burned away by the fire which had ceased to be comforting.  The flames burst upwards up with a roar, but he didn’t hear them anymore.  Screams had risen all around him.  At first they were simply voices of strangers screaming for mercy, crying out in terror and loss.  They served only to gain his attention and were quickly overpowered by something worse. 

His name… screamed out over and over again by fifteen dying throats.  Each utterance defined him, pulled him further away from the soothing warmth of the nothingness he’d been.  Deep in his mind, dying mouths gaped open, vomiting forth blood as they struggled for breath with which to condemn him.  Loss, pain, terror… he’d failed.  Failed them, failed his mission, failed his destiny.  That sweet void had now become a nightmare and it was all his fault!

Desperately, he tried to cling to oblivion, sensing that his destination would be somewhere even worse than this.  Unfortunately the problem with nothingness was that it gave you precious little to hold onto.  Had he possessed fingers, he’d have clawed at the fire, trying to pull himself back, but the flames twisted and spun, becoming a whirlpool of heat and blood that sucked him down without remorse.

Pain tore through him, it gave his body form even as the screams had shaped his mind.  Both familiar and loathsome, it served to make the sounds even louder and more defined.  One, higher pitched than the others and filled with a wild and frantic fear stood out amongst the others.  It grabbed him, sank poison talons into his consciousness and the pain of his body became outright agony. 

Desperately, he tried to tear it away, but the poisonous sound filled him, became him.  It flowed along his nerves, defining them with its very presence and setting them alight one after another so that he was writhing in agony before he even had a body to move.

Bones twisted, broke then reformed, tearing muscles and ligaments into new shapes.  Skin stretched and limbs shifted.  Each new torment cemented him further in this nightmare until he thought that he’d be driven mad by it all.  Was this it?  Was this his existence?  Through it all, the voices condemned him with their screams.

“You left us!”

“You let us die!  You didn’t do anything to stop him!”

“We died for you, our lives for yours!”

“You threw away our sacrifice!”

“We loved you!”

“You turned your back on us!”

“Traitor!”

 “Help me please!!  Brother! Anyone!”

It was that last voice which was the final catalyst, sending raw agony tearing through him like a lightning strike.  His heart beat so fast against the confines of his ribs that it was moments away from bursting.  High pitched screams, eerily familiar deepened, becoming his own, resonating through his body and anchoring him in this hellish existence. 

The pain didn’t so much recede as shift, becoming external rather than internal.  Lungs strained as he drew in a deep breath, the air scratching at a throat torn raw from screaming.  It was an aborted attempt, a heavy pressure pressed down on him from above.  Something rough and hard dug into his back, bruising flesh and helping to further center himself.

A foul wind blew across his face and he felt a wet drop of liquid land on his cheek, fouling his skin.  Another foul breeze… no, breath.  Someone was breathing on him, crushing him.  Trying to roll away proved to be fruitless, he was pinned beneath that terrible weight and further struggles revealed that his wrists were similarly immobile. 

Blinking his eyes cleared his vision, revealing a face hovering close to his own.  Ugly, pockmarked, it was a middle aged man, his skin ravaged by sun and wind with a greasy beard covering the lower half of his face.  Muddy brown eyes were wide as saucers, staring at him with utter uncomprehending horror.

“C…Captain Albatau?”

The words barely registered as his mind was still too deeply in shock to make sense of the words.  Instead, he reacted on instinct, lunging upwards with the speed of a striking snake.  His shoulders screamed at him, threatening to dislocate, but what was one more pain in this sea of agony?  Teeth locked on flesh, greasy hair pressed against his skin and as his jaws tightened, hot blood flowed into his mouth.

The man howled in pain and tried to pull away, but the victim had become the aggressor and had no intention of letting go.  Strong hands gripped his shoulders, trying to rip him away.  A heavy fist slammed into the side of his head, stars burst behind his eyes, but it’s nothing.  He’s endured far worse over the course of his life. 

It’s only after his teeth meet and flesh parts that he falls back, his mouth bloody and a chunk of flesh pressed against his tongue.  He doesn’t give the man a chance to fight back.  Mercy has never been a part of his nature and he doesn’t expect to grant any now. 

Taking advantage of the man’s surprise, he twists his body, ignoring the sharp bite of metal against his tender inner thighs.  Already off balance by the initial attack and his hands busy staunching the rush of blood from his throat, the man is knocked over easily.  Before his body has even hit the ground, fists are connecting with his face.

The first blow breaks the man’s nose, sending a fresh gout of blood across them both.  The second shatters teeth while the third and fourth break the jaw.   After that, there’s no point in counting as blow after blow rains down on the stunned figure. His palms are open, driving the heel of his hand against the hard skull with surprising effectiveness; the harsh lessons of his youth still guiding his actions. Without his beautiful crimson armour to protect his hands, he can’t risk such a crippling injury. Only an idiot breaks his knuckles on the skull of an enemy.

This man… this man is the reason he was torn away from that peaceful nothingness.  This man is the reason he hears the screaming over and over in his head.  He deserves to die for his crime.

There’s a rock in his hands.  He’s not sure when he grabbed it or even when he started driving it into the man’s face, but it certainly shuts him up. Over and over, the rock is smashed into that twisted ugly face until it ceases to even vaguely resemble a man and instead has been reduced to simply low quality meat.   That’s one less voice screaming in his head at least. 

 “How dare you touch me!”  He means to hiss the words but they come out as a shrill scream as the rock continues to smash into the remains of the now clearly dead man.  Maybe if he keeps hitting him, the screaming will stop!  All of his rage, fear and frustration pour into his hand as it drives the weapon down over and over again until all he knows is numbness.

Finally, after what seems like hours, his already overtaxed body gives out on him and the rock falls from nerveless fingers as he slumps over the corpse with a shattered sob.  The screams still surround him and he has a feeling that they will never go away no matter how many people he killed.

 

***

 

 “Boss… we need you by the stables.”  Gaddess’ normally swarthy skin had a greyish pallor to it and his dark eyes were haunted by what he’d seen.  The very fact that he refused to meet Allen’s eyes warned him of the very worst case scenario, causing the normally calm and sedate Knight of Caeli to break into an undignified run.

They’d been assured that the area was perfectly safe.  It was the only reason he’d allowed Celena to be left alone with only her nurse and two guards for protection. 

They’d found Minar in front of the doors to Celena’s room.  He’d been stabbed twice in the chest but at least had taken his killer with him to the grave.  The filthy beast was clearly a deserter from the war, clad in such piecemeal armour; it was hard to tell which country he’d belonged to originally.  

The door o the room had been knocked off its hinges, causing his stomach to do several petrified flips as he’d raced inside.  While his worst fears weren’t realized, they were in no way assuaged.  Instead of his sister, he’d found Haruna, her nurse sprawled across the bed with her throat slit.  The aging woman had put up a fight judging by the bruises covering her face and the viciously split lip, but she’d accomplished her goal.  A small scrap of pale blue cloth fluttered on the sill of the window.  It had to have come from Celana’s gown.  The old nurse had bought his sister time to escape… he’d hoped it had been enough, but now he could feel that hope dying with every frantic step. 

Once again, he cursed himself viciously over his foolishness in trusting the empty assurances of the towns Reeve.  Worse, he blamed himself for insisting that his sister accompany them on this tour of the border.  He simply loathed the idea of being apart from her for any length of time.  After so many years of empty searching, he still woke up each morning frantic with the belief that her return had all been a dream.  Only seeing her delicate form curled up in her blankets and smelling the sweet fragrance of her hair convinced him that it was reality.  

She was so emotionally fragile, her mind still trapped as it had been at the age of five even though her body had aged beyond her comprehension.  How would she react to this brutality?  Would she find a place to hide?  Would she run?  Jeture help him…. would she fight? 

His sweet sister had never held a weapon in her life, but he knew that there was always the chance that her body might remember all of those lost years.  If her body remembered… her mind might as well.  He quickly blocked out that thought before it could fully form.  Concentrate on finding her, protecting her.  She was back, against all odds she was back, and he wasn’t going to loser her a second time!

Undignified curses flew from his lips as he stumbled around the building after his lieutenant.  He didn’t even register the other victims who lay either sobbing over the bodies of loved ones, or who were being tended to by the villagers who’d raced over at the sounds of the alarm bells. 

Safe… he was going to strangle Reeve Desmondu for not noticing a group of brigands this large and organized.  Surely there had to have been signs of them being in the area.  Maybe that’s why he’d been so eager to have them arrive.

Even six months after the war, the village was still working diligently to rebuild itself, as were many others.  He and his crew had been assigned to oversee the situation of each village and report back to the palace.  It was odious work totally unbecoming of a war hero, but he’d specifically requested it.  Let the others all think that he was being altruistic, or simply distancing himself from the princess.  He did it for the sole purpose of keeping Celana away from the capital.  There were too many curious eyes and prying questions that neither of them were ready to answer.  One misstep there could see his sister paying for war crimes she hadn’t been aware of committing, or facing an angry mob of survivors intent on their pound of flesh.

“Please Jeture,” He prayed fervently.  “Don’t take her away from me… anything but that!”   

He barely noticed Hiru’s body, sprawled out in the mud by the stables.  All that mattered was the figure he saw up ahead, clad in the filthy remains of that pretty blue gown. 

She was covered in blood and straddling a man who was suspiciously still.  Her slender body was slumped over with her head so deeply bowed that her long silver bangs obscured her face.  Slender shoulders shook violently as she sobbed and there was far too much luminously pale skin barred for his liking. 

Allen’s stomach churned with dread as he took in the sight of her ravaged form but it quickly turned to horror as he drew close enough to see the remains of the body she rested on. 

Like the others, he wore patchwork armour, though most of it belonged to Zaibach.  That in itself was bad enough, but the worst was the man’s face… or lack thereof.  He might as well have been savaged by a wild animal, the damage was that extensive.  Every bone in his head appeared to have been pounded into paste, mixing with the gore which had once been a face.  A nearby rock, stained brilliant crimson and coated with slimy objects best left uncontemplated lay nearby, making the murder weapon clear.

 “Celena!”  He cried out the name as he raced forward, not noticing how his sister failed to react at all to his voice, or how Gaddes tried to grab onto him and hold him back. 

“Boss!  I don’t think that’s-”  The fine leather of his breeches was likely ruined as he dropped down to his knees, heedless of the gore and reached out to embrace his sister.  It was only when his fingers were a hairs breadth from touching her shoulder that he froze, a little voice in his head screaming at him to be wary.  For a moment, he knelt there, trying to figure out why he had the overpowering urge to raise his sword into a defensive position.

It was little things at first, easily unnoticed in his panic and the darkness of the stable, but once he’d seen them, impossible to overlook.  Rather than the familiar platinum blond hair he held so dear, the locks hiding her face were a lustrous silvery white.  The tears in the dress weren’t just from an attack, the seams had torn in several places, as if the body inside could no longer be contained.  While still slender in build, it was no longer a frail feminine thinness.  Instead, wiry muscles stood out beneath alabaster skin, powerful and defined, it was the body of a young warrior more used to wielding a sword than an embroidery needle. 

Worse… and it broke his heart to hear it, the torn sounding sobs were too deep to belong to a girl.  Too deep, and far too familiar.  The hair on the back of Allen’s neck stood on end and his vision wavered as tears threatened to spill free.

“She lied….”  Dilandau didn’t look up or move from his vulnerable position.  If it hadn’t been for those softly spoken words, Allen might have thought that the boy had been wholly unaware of his approach.  Another traitorous thought wormed its way into the knight’s thoughts that perhaps he simply didn’t care.   

The all too familiar silken purr was lacking in his voice.  Instead it had been replaced by a broken and anguished moan. 

“The bitch lied to me…”  As he spoke, a deceptively delicate looking fist rose up and then smashed down ruthlessly into the pile of meaty gore which had once been a man.  Allen had to swallow several times to keep from gagging and he felt a cold sweat break out across his skin.  He wanted to scream at his loss, rage at the horror in front of him and deny the cruelty of a Fate which had given his dream then snatched it away so quickly.  The happiness he’d held so desperately in his heart was shattering with every moment that passed, and all he could do was watch the broken warrior further abuse a corpse. 

The blows were half hearted at best, Dilandau’s rage clearly already spent in the initial attack.  For a long moment, the two held themselves perfectly motionless, tension vibrating in the air between them.  Then, slowly, the silver shrouded head tilted up and beneath the blood streaked bangs, Allen could see those crimson eyes which had haunted so many of his nightmares.  The fires which had always burned so brightly in their depths were missing, rendering them flat and dull with shock.  They seemed to stare right through him, utterly devoid of recognition, making Allen wonder just who it was the boy was seeing. 

“She lied to me…”He repeated to his unseen confidant.  “She promised that there wouldn’t be any more pain… that the screaming would stop…SHE LIED!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!”  Without warning, his eyes lit up with that familiar maddened fire and his voice rose to a shriek, splitting the air around them.  Despite himself, Allen’s fingers tightened around his sword and he prepared for an attack.   The fact that the boy was unarmed meant little to the knight.  He’d noticed the gore covering the bottom half of Dilandau’s face as well as the rock.  Unarmed, he’d killed a man foolish enough to think he was weak.  That wasn’t going to happen a second time. 

It was only when Dilandau began to tear at his hair with bloody hands that Allen released his sword and grabbed onto the boys slippery wrists, doing his best to stop him.  Dimly, a small voice in his head warned him that trying to restrain someone who by all evidence had just been assaulted likely wasn’t his wisest move, let alone someone as psychotic as the Zaibach captain.   Still, there was no hesitation in his action as he then pulled the trembling boy against his body. 

Blood called to blood, no matter how twisted by magic and the need to comfort his sibling overrode all logic.  Jeture… this screaming maniac was his little sister…  He wouldn’t lose her again no matter how deeply she hid in that hated body.  He’d won her back once, he would do so again despite the odds! 

As if lending validity to his mental vow, the once dreaded warlord of Zaibach stopped struggling, too exhausted to offer any further resistance.  Instead, he fell limp into Allen’s arms, sobbing softly with such utter loss that it nearly broke the man’s heart. 

“Boss?” Gaddes approached cautiously, unwilling to disturb the tender tableau but reluctant to leave his friend alone with the homicidal maniac for even a moment.   Trembling bundle of tears or not, this was still the child soldier who had burned their fort to the ground and slaughtered countless of their friends.  “You might wanna cover him up before anyone realizes what happened.”   With deliberately slow movements, as if approaching a particularly feral animal, the dark haired man edged over, holding out a long cloak he’d taken off of Hiru’s fallen form.  It felt somewhat blasphemous to take the garment from his friends body, but figured that the man had died to protect Allen’s sister, he wouldn’t begrudge this action… even if it was for her psychotic alter ego.

It took a few moments before Allen responded, looking up with wide eyes of the deepest blue.  The pain in their depths was staggering and Gaddes had no idea how the man was holding it all together.  He wanted desperately to protect the blond, but knew that Celena was their priority.  If anyone realized who Allen was holding in his arms, she’d be taken away once again and this time, no power of Fate was going to bring her back.  As much as he loathed to do so, he was going to have to protect the little mass murderer.

There were too many people milling around, poking their pointy noses into everything, eager to help.  It wouldn’t be long before someone saw Allen comforting someone and tried to get involved.  He had to get them away from everything as quickly as possible.  Worse, Dilandau’s appearance was simply far too unique and well known to be mistaken for anyone else in Astoria.  After the deaths of Emperor Dornkirk and Lord Folken, the boy was by far the most wanted man on Gaea and everyone knew he was still at large. 

Still moving carefully, Gaddes drew close enough to drape the cloak over the slender figure, making sure that he never touched that too white skin with his own hands.  The child was poison as far as he was concerned, destroying everything he touched.  How sweet tender Celena had carried such a viper within her was utterly beyond him. 

Smiling softly in thanks, Allen pulled the loose hood up over those brilliant silver locks, still receiving no resistance from Dilandau.  It was more than a little unnerving as far as Gaddes was concerned, either there was something seriously wrong with the kid… more than the usual, or he was one hell of an actor.  He simply couldn’t imagine that a few deaths would cause the little psycho to do much more than bat an eye and yawn in boredom.

“What the hell happened Boss?”  He found himself asking, and immediately regretting when he saw how Allen’s face grew pale and sickened.

“Thank you Gaddes.”  The blond knight murmured softly, tugging at the edge of the hood to ensure that all the hair was properly covered.  “I… I need you to stay quiet about this for the moment.  Can you do that?”

Dark eyes narrowed at the request.  Keeping things from the crew was nearly impossible at the best of times, and this wasn’t some tiny indiscretion like sneaking back to the barracks after an unauthorised night on the town.  Besides, the crew all knew about Allen’s sister.  They’d been there when she’d crawled out of that damned melef at the end of the war.  It hurt that after all they’d been through, Allen felt like he couldn’t trust them.

“I… I need to know what happened, to see if I can get her back.  This might just be temporary… a reaction to the battle here…”  He was grasping at straws and they both knew it. 

“You can count on me.”  Gaddes replied softly, inwardly hating himself for agreeing to help the little monster in any way.  While he might love and cherish Allen’s sister, he’d much rather see her alter ego drowned in a lake… repeatedly.  “You can count on all of us… you know that right?”

The blond head nodded slightly but before he could say anything, a soft voice drifted up from the depths of the cloak.

“I don’t want to be here… she promised…”  The aforementioned child warrior whimpered softly, his face buried against Allen’s shoulder. “I keep hearing them screaming… Please make them stop screaming… Chesta… Gatti…” 

Both men sighed for vastly different reasons.  One was torn by the suffering clearly evidenced by the words, love battering down the barriers of the past, creating a powerful loyalty.  The other thought of how difficult this was all going to be, and the danger they were all in because of it.  Still, he was nothing if not loyal to his boss and friend.  The two had been through too much together for a little thing like this to get between them.  If Allen wanted his silence and cooperation, he’d have it. 

“Let’s get him out of here, I think I hear Reeve Desmondu over there.”  He motioned with his chin off to the left and then held out a hand to help the knight stand up.  Normally Allen was quick and decisive, but this had clearly pushed him to his limits. It didn’t matter, Gaddes was there to help him in any way he needed until he got his feet back under him.   “There should be a room we can take over until we can radio for Crusade to come and pick us up.” 

Doing his best not to jostle either of them, he helped the Knight to his feet, noticing that he held the boy’s body in his arms and that Dilandau didn’t seem to be struggling at all, in fact, if it wasn’t for the softly murmured rantings, he’d have thought the boy was out cold.  That was likely a good thing though.  No one would question seeing a knight carrying a cloaked girl in their arms, especially after an attack like this.  If they happened to see any of the ruined dress which was still visible in places, it would only further confirm the illusion.

Still, every illusion needed help, and with a few quick motions of his hands, Gaddes had three nearby crewmembers push the crowd back, giving Allen room to walk.  As curious as the onlookers were, they weren’t rude or crass enough to struggle against the call for space or bother the obviously distraught knight with pointless questions.

While everyone was watching the handsome golden Knight, Gaddes quickly threw a few burlap bags over the remains of Celena’s attacker, hiding him from prying eyes.  Best if no one saw the brutality which had killed him, or the man’s partial state of undress.  Celena’s reputation would likely suffer enough in the coming days as they struggled to uphold a lie.  He didn’t need to add to it.

“Get rid of the body and say nothing about it.”  He quietly ordered Riom, the nearest crew member as he brushed past him, following in Allen’s wake.  While he might allow himself to be complicit in this upcoming deception, he wasn’t fool enough to believe that his friend was safe for even a moment with his newly returned “little brother”.


	2. Gaddes needs a drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention. Ahem... I do not own Vision of Escaflowne, nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them for a bit and mucking around with them for my own twisted amusement. I'll put them back when I'm done... honest.
> 
> On with the show!  
> ***************************

“Not to sound disrespectful at all Boss…”  Gaddes hedged the instant the door to the room was closed and bolted.  Glancing over at him, Allen sighed softly, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

“And yet I have the strongest feeling you will be.” 

“Yeah… um… so, what in Jeture’s name do we do with him?  I mean… we can’t keep him.  He’s a war criminal who sort of hates your guts… Not to mention the whole crazy thing.”

“Perhaps, but he’s also my sister and a Shezar.  That makes him my responsibility.”  Gaddes shook his head in exasperation.  This conversation was so many levels of wrong all rolled into one.  Worse, he recognized the iron resolution in his friend’s voice, warning that his mind wasn’t going to be changed no matter how much logic Gaddes used.

Resigned, he watched as Allen gently lay the still trembling youth on the bed.  They were using Allen’s room which thankfully had remained mostly untouched during the attack.  It was difficult not to wince as the once pristine sheets were quickly smeared with bits of gore.  It was impossible to tell how much of it was his, and how much belonged to that pig out back.  While even in his most generous of moods, Gaddes would have laughed at any injury Dilandau might have acquired, he understood that Allen had quite thoroughly convinced himself that Celena was still in there.  An injury to the little monster was an injury to her, and there was no way that he was going to let his best friend suffer like that.

Swearing softly at his lot in life, Gaddes walked over to the pitcher of water the innkeeper had so thoughtfully provided for washing and poured it into the generous basin.  It would be cool, but he doubted that the kid was in any shape to care right about now. 

“We need to clean him up.”  He found himself murmuring softly as he soaked a cloth in the water.  “Look for injuries and what not…”  They both refrained from looking directly at the teen, neither one of them wanting to acknowledge what the “what not” entailed.  After all, they’d both seen his attackers state of undress.  All too familiar with the horrors of war, their imaginations proved to be fertile ground for all sorts of unspeakable scenarios.

“Maybe… maybe he killed the bastard before…”  He meant the words to be comfort, but judging by how Allen winced and seemed to cling to the boy a little tighter, it likely had the opposite effect. 

For a long moment, Gadess stood there, holding the basin and the wet cloth in his hands, unsure of how to proceed.  He was a soldier not a medic dammit! 

“You know… Teo would be better at this.”  With tender care that belied his revulsion over touching the Zaibach monster, he began to carefully clean the gore off of those long slender fingers, doing his best to ignore how similar they were to the older Shezar’s.  “He’s the one with some medical training.  I mean, he’s no Millerna, but he’s better than nothing.”

“That’s Princess Millerna.”  Allen corrected automatically as he glanced towards the door with troubled eyes.  “And I don’t want to tell the crew… not yet.”

“You can’t keep this from them for long.”  Gaddes continued to press.  “It’s not like they don’t know about your sister.  They’re loyal men.  You can count on them to keep their mouths shut and their priorities straight.”   Of course, Allen was never overly rational when it came to his little sister and this was simply one more example.  While it hurt to see this sudden paranoia towards the crew, he supposed that he understood it a little.  If he’d had a younger sibling who’d been through what Celena had, he’d be an overprotective idiot too.

“I understand that this has got to be hard on you Boss, but remember that this isn’t Celena right now.  It’s Dilandau and he’s dangerous.  There’s no way the two of us can control him.”  Yeah, not the right words to use judging by the cold glare he received. 

Ducking his head, he focussed on washing the hand in the basin and frowned slightly as he noticed something wholly unexpected about the boy’s wrists.  There were fine scars encircling them.  Some were old and faded into near invisibility while others were still fresh and raw.  He was no expert, but they looked to be only a week or so old and he knew damn well that Celena’s wrists had been unmarked.   They looked… well they looked like the wrists of a prisoner, someone who’d been bound in irons.  When had the Zaibach Captain been imprisoned?  Surely they would have heard something if he’d been captured at any time.  It would have been a huge victory for anyone involved.

Leaning closer and running the cloth over the wounds, he finally noticed how still the limb was.  Dark eyes slowly looked up, studying the body in Allen’s arms and saw a brilliant crimson eye watching him from beneath the silver bangs.  His entire body tensed but before he could gasp out more than a curse, a foot kicked out from beneath the cloak, catching him square in the jaw and sending him flying off the bed.

Landing hard, he fought against the darkness which suddenly clouded the edges of his vision and struggled to regain his equilibrium.  When the hell did everything start spinning?  His stunned brain struggled to follow the movements of the cloaked figure as Dilandau twisted like a live eel in Allen’s surprise slackened grasp.  There was a glint of metal against the red of bloody flesh and the pale flash of a suddenly bared throat. 

Somehow the little monster had gotten behind Allen on the bed.  The hand that Gaddes had been cleaning only moments before was now tangled in Allen’s long blond hair, pulling his head back viciously while the other held a knife firmly against the knight’s throat. 

For a long moment, all Gaddes could do was crouch there and glare, cursing his stupidity at thinking that the boy was still deep in the throes of shock.  Dammit, he hadn’t even seen the kid pick up the knife!  It must have been when Allen had wrapped the cloak around him and the little bastard had been hiding it ever since.

“I don’t know what sort of sick game you have going here Shezar, but I’ll be leaving now.  Back off Pissant or I’ll slit his fucking throat!”   The last bit was hissed at Gaddes who had just managed to get his feet properly under him and was pondering how best to disarm the psycho without hurting Allen.

Rather than fight or defend himself, the knight held himself perfectly still, swallowing reflexively and feeling the sharp edge of the knife press against his flesh warningly.  His blue eyes gave Gaddes a warning look, silently ordering him to remain where he was.

“Dilandau, we’re not your enemy.”  He began in a soft and surprisingly calm voice considering the danger of the situation.  “The war is over.  It’s been over for nearly six months.  Zaibach lost.” 

That earned him a snort of utter contempt and the knife pressed a little harder against his throat.  Gaddes silently cursed himself as he watched bright crimson blood beading along the edge of the blade.  The kid clearly wasn’t bluffing.  He clearly thought very little of adding another death to tonight’s list., even if it was his would be savior.

“Bullshit.  The Zaibach Empire is all powerful!  They’d never lose to your backwater country or any of the barbarians.”  The hand on the knife never wavered; his confidence in his adopted country was absolute.

Allen drew in a deep breath, fully aware that he was walking on the razors edge of death and that a single misspoken word would end it all.  Gaddes hated feeling so utterly powerless, but right now this was out of his hands.  Allen seemed to know what he was doing however, treating the kid the way one would with a wild animal.  The slightest hint of aggression would lead to an attack.  So long as he remained calm and confident, it would keep the no doubt confused teenager off balance and possibly make him listen to what was being said.

“Do you remember the last battle?”  The knight continued to press, ignoring how the fingers in his hair tightened minutely.  “Do you remember Escaflowne?”  It was a gamble, a dangerous one considering how the merest mention of the white guimelef seemed to send the boy into a psychotic rage.

The knife pressed against his throat seemed to tremble slightly and he could feel the short quickened breaths against the back of his neck as his words seemed to spur memories.  _Please Celena… remember who you are… remember that you have a choice..._  He mentally begged, keeping his own breating smooth and even. 

“Vaaan.”  Dilandau all but hissed.  “It’s all his fault…  He took them away from me…  I could hear them screaming…  Gatti, Shesta, Dallet… Viole… I’ll slaughter him and his dirt grubbing people once I finish with you and this time I will reduce all of Fanelia to ashes!”  There was that familiar spine chilling cackle of wanton malice that he was so familiar with and Allen cursed in an ungentlemanly fashion in his head.  He was losing him!

“Jajuka!  What about Jajuka?”  That had been the Slayer the boy had called to back in the graveyard when they’d first realized that Celena and Dilandau were one and the same.  Even in his final moments of terror, that name had been screamed out over and over as well.  It was a desperate ploy, but at the sound of the name, the fingers clenching his hair relaxed and the knife seemed to pull back minutely.

“…Jajuka?”  As if a switch had been flipped, the crazed manic suddenly sounded so much like a frightened child that it made the knight ache inside.

“He wanted you to have a choice… Don’t throw it away.”  Allen wanted to leap off of the bed and put some distance between them more than anything, but deep inside he knew that any sudden movements would shatter the fragile spell which held the pale boy at bay.  Setting him off at this point would likely mean losing Celena forever.

With deliberate slowness, he turned around to face his young nemesis, schooling his features carefully to appear far calmer than he felt.  Gripping fingers released him, sliding through his hair without resistance and there was no sharp pain from the knife.  He was listening… praise Jeture, he was listening.

Dilandau knelt there on the bed, less than a foot away.  His one hand was still partially raised, a few long golden strands of hair dangling from his fingers.  The other still held the knife, but the grip was loose and Allen knew that he could knock it away easily should he need to.  Ignoring it for the moment, he instead focussed on those troubled crimson eyes, willing them to soften to pale blue.  That dull glazed look had returned and they seemed to stare through him, seeing another time.

Allen didn’t know what sort of relationship Dilandau had had with the strange beastman they’d found in the ruined melef, but he thanked Fate for the power it held over his sibling.

“He died… didn’t he.”  It wasn’t so much of a question as a statement.  Nodding his head warily, he watched as the fight seemed to drain from the young warrior, making him appear once again as the vulnerable and deeply damaged teenager he truly was.   “They’re all dead… all of them…”  Those burning eyes closed and the knife was slowly lowered down to the bed.  “Everything is gone…They left me alone…”

Tense muscles relaxed as the boy let out a deep sigh of utter devastation.  There was so much pain in that simple exhalation that Allen turned to Gaddes for support, suddenly unsure of how to proceed from here.  His momentary distraction prevented him from seeing the sudden explosion of movement as Dilandau’s fingers tightened on the knife, his wrist twisting around as the turned the blade on himself and thrust upwards.

Gaddes was already moving.  His body taking action before his brain fully realized what it was seeing and his fingers closed on the handle of the knife, turning it aside just in time to draw little more than a thin line of blood across the boys chest. 

Allen was knocked off the far side of the bed, landing with a startled yelp.  Dilandau and Gaddes were flung off the other side by the larger man’s momentum and both hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of each of them.  The knife fell free, landing less than a foot away and Gaddes realized that he had the advantage of being on top.  Before the suicidal boy could make a grab for the weapon, it was knocked away and Gaddes grabbed the outstretched wrist and twisted it, forcing Dilandau to roll over onto his stomach or risk dislocating his arm.

Had the boy not been already exhausted and utterly distraught, the older man was positive that the pin would never have worked.  The kid was simply too quick and too well trained to be taken so easily, but he wasn’t about to spit in the face of good fortune and bent the arm behind the boys back before applying weight and pressing the pinned shoulder to the floor.  It was a painful hold but shouldn’t do any damage unless Dilandau did something stupid.

Thankfully that surprise suicide attempt seemed to have taken the last of the boys strength and he lay there on the floor panting softly after only the briefest struggle. 

“T…thank you Gaddes…”  Allen gasped as he quickly scooped up the blade and tucked it into his belt.  His pale skin had lost what little colour it had, heightening the resemblance he had to the struggling boy on the floor.  Honestly, when the kid wasn’t snarling and screaming out insane threats, the likeness was uncanny.

“All in a day’s work Boss.”  He replied glibly, hiding the fact that every muscle on his body was trembling with adrenaline.  What the hell had he just done?  He’d just saved the life of the kid who’d killed so many of his friends when he’d razed Castelo, not to mention all the innocents murdered when he’d set fire to Palas.  Jeture, he was going to need one hell of a drink after all of this.

“We’ll let you up Dilandau, but you need to stay calm.”  Oh are you serious?  It took everything Gaddes had to not glare at his captain in utter exasperation.  The kid was certifiably nuts!  It was no wonder that someone had finally had enough to chained up the little psycho.  It had likely been for their own protection!  The men had often joked that the albino captain was little more than a vicious attack dog.  Maybe Zaibach really did keep the kid on a leash and only released him once he’d been pointed at the enemy.  “Do you promise to behave?”  Oh for the love of….  While he really didn’t want to speak against his superior in front of an enemy, this was seriously pushing the bounds of common sense.

“I’m a prisoner.”  Dilandau murmured, sounding utterly disgusted with the whole situation.  “I would think it’s my duty to misbehave.”  A faint smile twisted the boy’s lips and crimson eyes rolled up to stare challengingly at the knight.  “Just kill me and save us all some trouble.”

“You’re not my prisoner Dilandau.”  Allen’s voice was soft, almost tender and Gaddes could practically feel confusion radiating off of the teenager.  “I’m here to help you, but if you put either yourself or my crew in danger, I’ll be forced to restrain you.  Is that understood?”

Gaddes wasn’t sure what the blond was trying to accomplish with this show of misplaced trust, but Dilandau seemed to think that this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.  Despite how hellishly uncomfortable it must have been, the boy began to laugh.  The sound was harsh and mocking, offering little hope for peace between them.  The laughter continued for nearly a minute before self-control was re-established, but then those crimson orbs focussed on Gaddes, taking note of his no doubt incredulous expression and the twisted mirth returned with a vengeance.

It seemed to go on forever this time and really, he could almost sympathize with the sheer absurdity of the situation, especially from the kid’s point of view.  If it was strange to them, it had to be utterly surreal to Dilandau.

A knock at the door silenced the laughing instantly and Gaddes felt the body beneath him tense once more, ready to fight to the death if need be.

“Boss?  Everything ok in there?”  It was Katz, likely having heard the sound of struggle followed by what likely sounded like a wild pack of hyena-men having a party.  Honestly, he was rather surprised that it had taken this long for any of the crew to become concerned.  They must be busy running interference with the Reeve or dealing with all of the victims.  Still, his presence seemed to drive home to Dilandau just how precarious his position was.

“Everything’s fine Katz.”  The knight replied.  “If you could keep everyone away for a while, it would be appreciated.”

“Sure thing… We’ll take care of everything out here.  You take as much time as you need.”  There was honest concern in his voice.  Everyone loved sweet little Celena, the crew would move mountains for her if need be and both men knew with utmost confidence that no one would get near the door without having to go through them first.

At the sound of the retreating steps, Dilandau seemed to relax once again and drew in a deep breath.  It was an impressive feat considering the weight pressing down on his ribs.

“Let me up.”  He said, his voice sounding calmer than it had in a long time.  “I won’t fight you.”  The “for now” was left unsaid, but they all heard it. 

It was with great reluctance that Gaddes released his hold on the kids arm at Allen’s nod and he backed away quickly just in case another bone jarring kick was sent his way.

For a few moments, Dilandau just lay there, slowly sliding his arm down to his side and simply breathing.  His bangs had fallen into his eyes again but he made no move to brush them away as he carefully sat up and rubbed the strained shoulder.  Crimson eyes glanced at the knife tucked into Allen’s belt before darting over to the sword at his hip and Gaddes watched those slender fingers flex, likely imagining a weapon in his hands.

Glancing down at himself to assess injuries, it was hard to restrain a laugh at the utterly shocked expression on his face as he took in the ruined dress he was clad in.  His mouth opened then closed several times as he struggled to put words together through his shock and he looked up at Allen, clearly struggling for comprehension.

“A dress?!”  Yeah… this totally made up for the kick in the jaw.  “Why the FUCK am I wearing a dress?”  Looking back down at himself, the shocked albino tugged at the ragged bits of lace in confusion, obviously trying to put together what had happened to reduce it to that state.  “Did you drug me?  Is this some sick fetish of yours Shezar?”  That dangerous edge was creeping back into his voice and crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “What, your Mystic Moon bitch isn’t putting out anymore?”

Now it was Allen’s turn to sputter in shock at the insinuation of impropriety.  It was almost too bad that the rest of the crew couldn’t see this.  It would be a thing of legend.

“No!  It’s nothing like that!”

“Well it certainly looks like it!  I can assure you that I don’t spend my off hours parading around in a fucking frock!”

“You were a girl!”  Yeah, the Boss was clearly off balance in this fight and the kid was just as ruthless verbally as he was on the battlefield.

“Keep your sick fantasies to yourself.  You know damn well that I’m a guy Shezar,”  Dilandau all but leered, that familiar mocking purr was back in full force and dripping with innuendo.  “Or have you forgotten?”  Allen’s jaw snapped shut as Gaddes’ eyes widened at the insinuation.  He looked at Allen, then Dilandau, then back at Allen again so quickly that he likely had a mild case of whiplash.  What the hell?  No… seriously no…  Noticing Gaddes look of utter shock, Dilandau’s smirk grew even wider and he leaned forward, eager for the proverbial kill.

“Oh… you didn’t tell your crew?  I’m deeply hurt, especially considering how much you enjoyed yourself.”

“uh… Boss?”

“Shut up Gaddes.”  Allen snapped, his face warring between pure white and beet red.  It would have been funny had it not been so mentally traumatizing.  “It was a mistake Dilandau and you know it.”

“Which time?”  Oh gods… would they notice if he just covered his ears and tried to drown them both out with bar songs? 

“Both of you stop!”  Gaddes but in before Allen could manage to voice a retort.  “This isn’t accomplishing anything!”  To his surprise, both parties fell silent and stared at him expectantly, one in surprise at his outburst, the other studying him as if waiting for him to do something interesting or noteworthy.  “We can explain everything to you, but first you need to wash up and get into some proper clothes.  Can we do that without resorting to violence?”  Somehow he rather doubted that, but hey, it was a night for strangeness.

“I still want to know why I’m dressed like some stupid doll.  Honestly Shezar, I had no idea you were so kinky.”

“Ugh! Shut up!  I don’t want to hear about that!”  Gaddes snarled and stood up.  Before either of them could argue, he stalked over to the wardrobe on the far wall and threw it open.  Without asking permission, he pulled out a shirt, jacket and pants and threw them on the bed.  “You’re slimmer than Allen, but it’s the closest size we have for now.  Wash yourself up, look for injuries while you do it.  Once you’re clean, get changed.”

“Why would I be looking for injuries?  Think rather highly of yourself do you?”  How had Folken not strangled this kid?  He’d thought that dealing with Van was an exercise in frustration, but this kid took the proverbial cake. 

It was only now that Dilandau seemed to actually register the dried blood and gore coating his body and actually seemed to do a double take. 

“Oh…”  Well, that at least shut him up as he stared down at himself, trying to sort through this new mystery on top of all of the others.  Gaddes was hardly surprised that he didn’t remember the attack.  If it had been traumatizing enough to pull him out of Celena, then his mind had likely buried the entire ordeal.  “…Who’s blood is this?”  He sounded more curious than worried but that was hardly surprising really.

“A man attacked you.  You made sure the bastard was pretty damn dead.”  That seemed to brighten the boy’s mood immeasurably and he actually smiled.

“Oh good.”  Oh sweet Jeture, he was too old to deal with this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... awkward family moments. In their defense, neither of them knew they were related and really, in the show they certainly acted as if they already knew each other to some degree. Also, Dilandau looked pretty pissed when Allen introduced "his new lover". 
> 
> As far as relationships go, some characters will hook up with each other. I will admit to being partial to Dilandau/Van pairings but Gaddes is quickly growing on me. Thoughts?


	3. Unwelcome Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne. I'm only borrowing the characters so that I can psychologically scar them for my own amusement and promise to give them back when I'm done! Don't sue me please.

“You have got to be kidding me.”  Dilandau glared at the wet cloth and the basin full of bloody water with obvious distaste.  A sneer twisted his lovely features as he scowled at his two captors in utter contempt.  “The least you two could do is give me some illusion of privacy.” 

Both older men met his glower with one of their own and crossed their arms over their chests.

“Not a chance.  You’ll run and we all know it.”  The kid glared daggers at Gaddes for a long moment, likely picturing a hundred ways to kill him.  Even with the remains of the frilly dress covering him, the brat still managed to cut a rather imposing figure. 

Crimson eyes studied him coldly and the sneer grew a tad wider.

“Your hair and your eyes… you’re Fanelian aren’t you?”  Dilandau practically spit out the name, his voice dripping with utter contempt. 

“My mother was.”  Gaddes replied without batting an eye, rather sure he knew what vitriol was going to spew out of the brat’s mouth next.  “If you’re going to make some snide comment about Fanelia being backwater or how burning it to ground was an improvement, save it.  You’re opinions mean as much to me as the shit pile out by the stable.  Less actually.  The shit has some use.”  Seeing the thwarted fury in the kids eyes helped ease the mental trauma of the past few minutes and Gaddes couldn’t quite resist grinning mockingly back at him.

“I know what you’re doing.  As far as attempts at _suicide by guard_ go, that one wasn’t bad.  It was just really predictable.”  Despite his levity, the darker man was more than a little concerned.   That stunt with the knife had been serious and there was no doubt in his mind that it wasn’t going to be the last one. 

At least there was little worry about Dilandau trying his luck outside this room.  He was a smart kid and knew damn well that the death awaiting him beyond the doors wasn’t going to be quick or pretty.  It was a warrior’s death he craved, not one befitting a dishonoured prisoner.  Being caught by angry and frightened townsfolk while wearing a girls dress wasn’t exactly the most noble way to die after all.  At least the kid’s ego was finally working in his favour, but for how long?

“Are you two finished baiting each other?”  Allen finally grumbled, still trying to regain his composure from all of the unwanted revelations which had just been dropped.   “Dilandau, we’re all on the same side here.  The war is over.  We need to move on.” 

If it was at all possible, the kid actually grew paler than before and Gaddes saw the briefest flicker of utter desolation before Dilandau quickly turned away to fix the basin with another glare.

“Whatever.”  He grumbled sulkily and began to tug at the lacings of his dress, trying to pull them loose.  It became immediately clear that the kid had never dealt with a noble woman’s clothing before in his life and the irritated tugs quickly became near frantic pulls.  “What the hell!?”

“You’re tightening them.”  Allen remarked dryly, somehow managing to keep any possible amusement out of his voice and off his face.

“An expert on removing ladies dresses are you Shezar?” 

“Kid, you have no idea.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but add to the snark.  That earned him yet another warning look from Allen, though he had no idea why.  It’s not like the blonde’s conquests were secrets at all.  Hell, they were common gossip amongst the crew and had been for years.

“Just give me a damn knife so I can cut my way out of this mess.”  Dilandau all but snarled, extending his clean hand for the weapon.  Neither man so much as twitched.  After a moment of letting his hand hang there, the albino finally realized that no help was going to be forthcoming and flashed them a look of pure irritation.  “So how am I supposed to get out of this thing?  Harsh language perhaps?” 

“Put your hands on the wall over there.  I’ll cut the laces for you.”  Perhaps the daring grin on Gaddes’ face wasn’t wholly appropriate considering the situation, but he simply couldn’t help himself.  This kid deserved every bit of discomfort he could give him and more. 

“Hmph, as if I’d let a pissant like you undress me.”  Could he sound anymore arrogant?   

“I’ll do it.”  Allen matched the brats tone perfectly as he stepped forward, drawing the knife which had so recently been held at his throat.   Dilandau smiled with saccharine sweetness and placed his hands on the wall as if this was all just some big game to him, making Gaddes wonder just what he as up to now.

Thankfully Allen was also on his guard and wasted no time slicing though the many ties holding the garment together.  It was in such sad shape that it simply fell off his body, ruined beyond any hope of repair.  It had been Celena’s favourite night dress and Allen couldn’t help but give a little shudder at the symbolism behind it.

Stepping back, he gave Dilandau space and barely bit back a moan of despair at the sight before him.

“Oh lovely Shezar.  You didn’t even see fit to give me underwear?  You are such a pervert.”  The youths amused tone quickly faded as he made a soft sound of confusion and concern as he looked down at himself.  “…why am I bloody?”  The crimson blood staining the startling white of his inner thighs was impossible to miss and Allen took a step forward, instinctively reaching out to offer comfort.

Dilandau shifted his position subtly, dropping his center of gravity and raising his hands, ready to attack if the knight took one step closer.  The previously banked fires in his eyes blazed wildly with near panic.

“What happened to me?”  He hissed, not caring which of them answered.  “What did that bastard do to me!?  Why can’t I remember?  GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME SHEZAR!”  Dilandau’s voice rose to a shrill scream and he swung wildly at the knight, forcing the taller man to duck quickly or risk having his jaw broken.

“Celena… oh Celena I’m so sorry… I’ll help you.  We’ll fix this.”

“Who the fuck is Celena!?  Get away from me!”  The basin was grabbed and thrown with surprising strength at Allen’s head, splashing the filthy water across a generous portion of the room before the pottery shattered against the door.

Quickly stepping between the two, Gaddes was careful not to touch Dilandau, though he placed a gentle hand on Allen’s shoulder, lightly pushing him back.  Utter heartbreak filled the knight’s eyes and it was obvious that he was only going to make the situation worse with his concern.  The kid was in no shape to be smothered or fawned over, that much was obvious.  He needed space to come to grips with what happened.

“Boss… you should go check on the men.”  He kept his voice gentle but firm, giving Allen a slight nudge to make sure he had the knight’s attention.  “I’ll handle things… just go.”

“But I can’t-“

“Sir… what’s done is done.  We can’t change that.”   A little more steel filled his voice as he met those tormented blue eyes and held their gaze.  “What we can do is talk to that useless Reeve and get any information we can about those bastards and organize the survivors before anyone rushes off half-cocked trying to find their lair.”  It was a very real danger considering how many “would be soldiers” there likely were, all of them spoiling for revenge.  “Please.”

It was the please that finally got through Allen’s grief and he nodded his head, likely only understanding half of what Gaddes had said.  Still, what really mattered was that he reluctantly backed away from Dilandau’s tense form and headed to the door.  His movements were stiff and wooden from shock.

“Keep the others from coming in alright?  I don’t think we need anyone else in here right now.”  Suddenly he was very glad that the crew didn’t know what was going on.   They would either be jeering at the Zaibach captains well deserved fate, or screaming for blood and racing out into the forest.

Waiting until the door closed behind the departing knight, Gaddess picked up the pitcher and carefully poured some water onto the cloth before handing it over to the boy before turning away, giving him the illusion of privacy while he cleaned himself up.

 

 

“What’s the last thing you remember?”  Gaddes asked softly nearly half an hour later as Dilandau sat on the edge of the bed and fidgeted with the edge of the silk shirt he’d been lent.  It was wrinkling the fabric badly, but right now he was pretty sure that Allen wouldn’t care.  At the sound of his voice, crimson eyes flicked up for a moment to look at him disinterestedly before he looked back down.  “You have questions right?  None of this is making sense?  Tell me the last thing you remember before waking up tonight and I’ll see what I can fill in for you.”

“What does it matter?”  It bitterness had a voice, this was it.  “Everyone I know is dead.  Everything I fought for is ruined.  I failed… I failed and you won’t even let me die with dignity.”

“You don’t need to die Dilandau.”  A little voice inside his head was being less than helpful and insisting that yes, Dilandau dying would indeed make the world a better place.  Thankfully, a much louder voice told it to shut the hell up.  There was more going on here than he understood, and while letting the little monster die might let his companions rest more easily in their graves, he had a feeling that it would be a very bad decision on his part.

“I kill everything I touch.”  His words were so soft that they were barely audible, then there was a pause and soft giggles filled the room.  The sound was chilling in its madness despite its lack of volume.  “Everything except the one thing I was ordered to kill.”

Taking a deep breath, Dilandau looked up at Gaddes, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Please… let me join them… You can tell Allen that I attacked you.  Just… just make the screaming stop.  I keep hearing them calling to me…She said she’d take it all away… but she lied.”

“She?  Who lied?”  What the hell was he doing?  He was second in command of a friggin ship crew, not some fancy brain doctor and this kid was all sorts of broken.

Leaning back against the large headboard on the bed, Dilandau drew his knees up tightly to his chest, resting his face against them for several minutes.  Whether he was deliberately stalling or simply trying to make sense of his own mind was anyone’s guess, but Gaddes didn’t press him.

“It doesn’t hurt.”  The voice was so quiet that he almost missed it.

“Huh?”

“If he raped me… it would hurt… but it doesn’t.  But there was blood…”  Ok, that was a good question.  Not one he particularly wanted to ponder, but maybe it did require some thought. 

“Maybe… maybe it was just blood from everything else.”  Gaddes offered, more than a little surprised at the gentle tone of his voice.  “I mean, you were pretty covered in it…”  His voice drifted into silence as Dilandau tilted his head just enough to level a cool glare at him.  The look screamed “moron.”

“I grew up on the battlefield.  I damn well know what the aftermath of a rape looks like.”  Crimson eyes held his for a long moment, taunting him as his stomach lurched at the prospect of what the kid was saying.  Finally after what seemed like an eternity, those crimson eyes released him and stared back down at the twisted silken hem of the shirt.  “No, I never took part.  It was too far beneath my men and I.  We’re better than that…were better than that.”  He corrected himself, his hands clenching into fists.  “Dammit, why are you keeping me here?  Why aren’t I in some filthy cell waiting for the gallows?  If everyone else is dead, then why am I still alive?”

“That’s a complicated question.”  Gaddes replied, earning himself yet another look of scorn.

“Oh really?  Because so far everything seems to be so simple.”  This had to be a defense mechanism.  The kid was just scared, confused and as much as he hated to admit it, legitimately angry.  He had to keep hold of his temper because the instant he lost it, the brat would feed off of it and things would just escalate from there.  He was the adult dammit.  No kid, no matter how crazy was going to provoke him into killing them.

“What was the last thing you remember?”  He asked again.  “I’ll fill in what I can for you.” 

“No threats?  No empty promises?  You people really aren’t any good at interrogation are you?”  Dilandau’s mouth split open into a wide grin and he let out another sharp bark of laughter.  “That’s what this is, isn’t it?!  You drug me, set this whole thing up to throw me off balance and then pretend to give a shit about me.  I didn’t think that Allen had the stomach for something like this.  I’m impressed.”  Oh for the love of Jeture….

“People died tonight.  Friends of mine gave their lives to protect the person whose body you stole, so don’t me this crap about this being a trick.  I have enough blood on my hands from the war.  Don’t make me add to it.”

Well now he had the little psycho’s attention.  Those burning eyes latched onto his, promising a slow death if he didn’t answer each and every question about to be thrown at him.  Despite knowing that the kid was unarmed and beyond exhausted, Gaddes still wanted to take a few steps back.

“What are you talking about?  Body I stole?” 

“Do you remember anything after fighting Van Fanel at the final battle?”  Gaddes prompted, trying to regain control over the conversation.  “You were losing, your guimelef was crippled… what do you remember?”

Dilandau stared at him for a long moment, his already white skin seeming to take on greyish hues as his fingers tightened around the silk hem of the shirt, twisting it beyond recognition. 

 

“This… this is a trick…”  His voice while lacking in volume had a clear warning not to it.  Beneath that, Gaddes could hear the clear traces of fear. 

“Try to remember.”  He pressed, watching how those crimson eyes grew unfocussed and the youths breathing became rapid and shallow. 

“I don’t want to!”  Dilandau hissed softly.  “He… he killed Jajuka!  I could hear him scream as he died, just like the others.  It came over the comm… I heard everything.  I… I just wanted to get away, to not hear the screaming anymore.”  Closing his eyes, the boy curled up into himself even more tightly, his fingers clutching at his head at the pain of the memory.  “So much screaming… I couldn’t make it stop!  I could hear them all!”  He was shaking now, sweat beading on his forehead as panic began to fill his voice. 

“There was a voice… a girl… she said that she could take it all away and give me peace… she could make the nightmare stop.  I believed her… I trusted her…”  As if a switch deep inside had been flipped, the shaking suddenly stopped and Dilandau’s voice dropped back into that dangerous octave, the one which seemed to precede a terrible burst of violence. 

“She lied to me.  Just like everyone else.  I trusted her and now look at me!” 

Gaddes was ready for the fist which swung at his face, knocking it aside easily.  There was no power behind it and no real coordination.  The kid was simply too far gone for that.  Still, the man wasn’t about to drop his guard for a moment.  He’d already been almost fatally surprised tonight and wasn’t about to let that happen again.

Glaring daggers, the kid looked utterly affronted that Gaddes had dared to block his attack but thankfully didn’t follow it up with a second one. 

“Van Fanel was about to kill you on the battlefield when Allen stopped him.  He put himself between the king and you.  Do you understand?   The man you threw a bowl at fought his ally to keep you safe.”  Dilandau glared at him for a long moment, denial radiating from his every pore, but Gaddes noted how his fingers had resumed toying with the hem of the shirt. 

“Why?  Not that I believe you at all.  But why would Shezar do that?  We’re enemies.”  At least the kid was listening, but this next revelation might just push him away completely.  Hells, Gaddes had seen it all with his own eyes and still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“He’s your brother.”  Dilandau held off the laughter for a whole five seconds before nearly falling off the bed over what he perceived to be a bad joke.  Gaddes watched him for a minute, unsure of how to actually proceed and vaguely wondering just how whoever was guarding the door was taking all of this.  They’d have heard insane laughter then the sounds of screaming, swearing and things breaking, only to have it devolve back into crazy laughter.  There was no doubt that they’d have figured out that it wasn’t Celena in the room, no one in the crew was stupid enough to miss the obvious.  Still, the door remained shut and locked.

The minute stretched into two… then five.  Every time Dilandau seemed to get a grip on his mirth, he’d look up at Gaddes and begin a fresh round.  He’ll tire himself out eventually.  Gaddes promised himself over and over.  The kid was on fumes by now, the only thing keeping him going was adrenaline and his own damn stubbornness.  Still, it was rather impressive to see that level of tenacity devoted to something other than wholesale slaughter.  Ah, but the night is still young… that damn voice in the back of his head reminded him helpfully. 

“Are you quite finished?”  He finally snapped when it became clear that the brat had no intention of shutting up.  “It’s not that funny.”  Disturbing was likely the more accurate word considering what he’d learned about the kid and his boss tonight.

“Are you kidding?  This is hilarious!”  Dilandau’s voice was hoarse now and tears glittered on the edge of his pale lashes.  “He seriously thinks that I’m his brother?  Where the hell did he get that stupid idea?”

“Do you remember anything about t your childhood before you were five?”  Gaddes shot back neatly, ready to defend his best friend. 

That shut the kid up rather effectively and his eyes seemed to glaze over again for a moment before he shook his head violently.  Remembered something did you?  Gaddes bit back a knowing smirk at realizing just how expressive the brats face actually was.  Dilandau might make a terrifyingly competent warrior, but he would be a horrible spy.

“No one remembers stuff from when they were that young.”  The albino countered hotly. 

“You were a ward of the state whose records were sealed tighter than Princess Eris’ bodice.”  Silently thanking Folken for the information he’d provided, Gaddes went for the throat of the argument with a ruthlessness that he was sure Dilandau would appreciate… if he weren’t on the receiving end.  “You were also tightly affiliated with the Madoushi, so much so that not even your own Strategos could access your files.  Does that sound like the history of a typical Zaibach soldier?”

“You don’t know anything!”  The boy hissed, his eyes growing wide as he began to tremble again slightly.  “I was born in Zaibach!  I was an orphan and the state trained me to be of use to my country!”

“Have you ever looked in the mirror?  You’re Astorian.  You’re noble Astorian more specifically, not some Zaibach gutter rat.”  The appeal to his ego didn’t seem to gain him much ground and he inwardly wished that he could show him a picture of Allen’s mother.  The kid was clearly hers and looked like her even more than Celena did, even with the albinism.  “The Madoushi were stealing kids from all over Gaea right around when Allen’s sister went missing.  Folken confirmed that there were operatives around Palas at the time… more importantly, that they were after a very specific target.  You.”

“Folken told you this?”  Scorn dripped from his voice.  “Folken was a liar and a traitor.  Only an idiot would believe what he said.  He ordered me to sack his own country and then betrayed us for his brother all in the same damn day.  His word means nothing!” 

“And the Madoushi?”  For a moment there was honest fear in the boys eyes and he drew back despite himself.  The very idea that anything could scare that little monster was jarring to say the least, but then he remembered the scars on the boy’s wrists.  Old and new, they spoke volumes of years of forced confinement.  “They’re the ones who chained you up weren’t they?” 

This time Dilandau wouldn’t even meet his eyes.  Instead, the twisted off of the bed and began pacing back and forth across the room, giving Gaddes a wide berth. 

“You’re wrong.”  He murmured softly.  “You keep mentioning that Allen lost a sister.  I’m a guy.  You saw me naked just a few minutes ago you pervert, so this is just a sick joke on your part.”  While he wasn’t acting violent, Gaddes didn’t miss how his shrewd gaze darted around the room, sizing everything in the room up as a potential weapon. 

“I also saw Celena in that same gown just a few hours ago.  Unless you’re going to tell me that you decided to take part in a raid on some backwater village Allen happened to be staying in.  Then during that raid, you decided to hide his sister, steal her nightclothes, put them on and then allow yourself to be attacked by a bandit?”  

Even Dilandau could see how stupid that sounded, and he paced a little faster, forcing his exhausted body to obey.  Gaddes wasn’t finished however and his eyes offered no reprieve as they studied every single one of the teens reactions.

“I also saw him pull his sister out of your Guymelef after the battle.  She was wearing your armour and diadem.  There was no sign of anyone else inside the melef.”  Dilandau wasn’t even looking at him.  He continued to pace back and forth, idly pondering jumping out of the window.  It wasn’t high enough off the ground for the fall to kill him, but the thick glass just might break in such a way as to cut something vital.  There was the mirror over the dresser.  He could smash that and use one of the shards to slice the noisy bastard’s throat… or his own if need be.

The candle sticks were heavy and made out of a shoddy brass that would be heavy enough to beat someone’s skull in, not to mention that map case on the table… He knew at least ten different ways to kill someone with just that.

“There’s also the graveyard… do you remember that Dilandau?”  The boy froze in mid step, the sick nausea in his stomach growing worse the longer the mongrel Fanelian kept speaking.  “Allen and Princess Eris saw you transform right in front of them.  You were Celena one minute, then Dilandau the next.”

Closing his eyes, the former Zaibach captain tried to block out the sound of that infernal voice.  He remembered the graveyard, remembered pain, confusion and waking up in a strange place surrounded by enemies.  It had been such a perfect opportunity to end the war right then and there… he could have captured the damn princess, or even killed her.  It would have been a crippling blow to the enemy’s morale, but instead he’d panicked. 

Memories flashed behind his eyes of being curled up in a cold empty cell weeping in terror and loneliness, begging for rescue… being so sure that someone would come.  There were flashes of a tall person with long golden hair and a warm smile that promised protection and love.  Memories of being strapped down to a cold metal table, surrounded by twisted machines and looming figures with hands like ice.  So much pain and terror… he could hear his screams over and over again, high and childlike, begging them to stop, screaming for a mother he couldn’t remember, a brother who’d left him…

“I’m not Celena…”  He couldn’t even look at the man he was speaking to and his stomach clenched almost painfully from the stress of the moment.  “I’m Dilandau Albatou, youngest captain in the Zaibach army.  I pilot the Oreades in Copper Army under General Adelphos.  I have more kills to my name than any other soldier in the war and my name brings fear to even the hardest of warriors.”  The words gave him strength, they reinforced his identity despite the attacks of Shezar’s dog.

“You’re all that, yes.”  Gaddes agreed.  Really, there was no reason to deny it.  “But you were once also Celena Schezar, younger sister of Allen Schezar.”

“Stop saying that name!  I’m not her!”  Dammit, they’d taken everything from him, now they were trying to strip away his very identity.  It was more than he could take.  Suddenly being ripped apart by an angry mob didn’t seem quite as bad as before.  At least to them he’d be Dilandau, hated warlord rather than some scared little girl. 

“No… you’re your own person, just as she is.”  Gaddes conceded.  Dilandau wasn’t sure if he should take that as a victory or if it would just be another step towards accepting their delusions.  “What you also are is Allen’s sibling.  Brother, sister, it doesn’t matter to him.  You saw how upset he was over what happened.”

“I don’t care if he was upset!  He can die in a fire for all I care.  He’s not my brother.  Zaibach is my family.  The Ryuugekitai were my brothers.  Not some blonde ponce!”  Deep in the back of Dilandau’s mind, he could still hear that child’s voice begging for a brother who would never come.  The sense of betrayal tasted like bile in his mouth despite the fact that it had been years ago. 

He couldn’t quite deny the nagging thought that maybe there had been more to his life than he’d realized.  The pain, the terror, the hell of training under an unending series of ruthless masters where failure of any sort meant crippling punishment.  Not to mention the ever watchful eyes of the Madoushi growing up. 

“You said they were after me specifically.”  He finally said, feeling as if he was standing at the edge of a deep chasm and might fall at any moment.  “Why?” 

“That I don’t know.”  Gaddes shook his head slightly, inwardly pleased that the kid was at least listening to what he was saying even if he wasn’t overly accepting of it.  “The boss might know.  He spent a lot of time grilling Folken about you after that first time he saw you change.  If he found out anything, he never shared it with me.”

“You said that Princess Eris knows about me… and Shezar’s people… “

“The Princess hadn’t told anyone, nor will she.  As for the Crusade crew, we love Allen and we love Celana.  None of us want to see her hurt… even by you.”   There was no need to further elaborate on that warning.  It was clear to both of them.  However, beneath the threat, there was also a promise of protection.  If the crew honestly believed that Dilandau was Celena… even the princess being in on this, then did he actually have a chance of surviving this?  Surely if Astoria was going to execute him for war crimes, they’d have done it by now… of course, it was one thing to hang a hated enemy but quite another to do so with an innocent girl. 

“And what will they do now that I’m back?”   Dilandau hated the feeling that he was playing along with this madness, but as improbable as it sounded, too much of it was ringing true to allow him to utterly dismiss it.

“That depends on you.”  Gaddes stared at him with serious dark eyes, trying to make the boy understand the severity of the situation with his gaze alone.  “Act like you did during the war and no force on Gaea will save you from the executioners block.  Act like a civilized human being and you’ve got a chance.” 

For several tense seconds, Dilandau pondered the ultimatum, weighing good behavior against the future possibility of being able to escape and go back to Zaibach… except did he want to go back there?  If they’d truly lost the war, what was there for him?  His men were dead, the army defeated and the country cowed into submission.  No, he’d wait and learn.  The entire world had changed in the past six months and a smart warrior always gathers information before an attack.


	4. Compromises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dilandau learns all about his bad night. Allen ponders a nervous breakdown and Gaddes just wants to watch and eat popcorn. Finally some of the Crusade crew get some lines!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. I'm not making money off of this, it's purely for my own entertainment. Also, I just realized that I've been using the wrong calendar. My bad. I'll go back and fix that in previous chapters.

Allen stormed into the room, blowing past Katz with barely a grunt of acknowledgement before he threw open the door violently, making both inhabitants jump in shock.

Dilandau had been slouched in a chair, doing his best to stay awake.  He shot to his feet in an instant despite his obvious exhaustion and one of the heavy candle sticks was in his hand before the blonde knight could even think of approaching him.

Gaddes had been lounging on the bed, looking calm and relaxed, hoping to lull the boy into enough of a sense of security to actually rest.  Though used to his best friend’s occasional outbursts of emotion, this entrance caught him by surprise as well, though at least he managed to keep from being as obvious about it.

“The attack was planned!”  The Knight of Caeli spat out, pacing the room in frustration just as Dilandau had done previously.  Gaddes spared the youth a quick glance and sighed, noting that all his efforts to relax the kid had been ruined in mere seconds.  He was back to brandishing a makeshift weapon and preparing to fight for his life against old enemies once more.

Too furious to notice, Allen spun around, glaring at Gaddes with eyes of blue fire.

“How can you lay there like that?!  They were targeting Celena!” He snapped harshly, waving a hand towards the window, as if that would somehow summon the culprits. 

“Boss, you need to calm down.”  Gaddes slowly swung his legs off of the bed and stood up, keeping his movements slow and steady.  His eyes might be on his friend, but his attention never left the pale warrior. 

“I refuse to calm down!  You saw what they did to Celena!  I’m going to hunt those honourless dogs to the ends of Gaea for this!  I’m going to make them pay!” 

As Allen snarled, a hand reached discreetly into the room and closed the door, granting them some level of privacy from the rest of the Inn.  Recognizing the arm as belonging to Katz, Gaddes made a mental note to buy the man a few rounds the next time they had leave.  Discretion was a rare commodity among the Crusade crew, and this situation certainly begged for it.

“Boss, we can’t go rushing off into the woods tonight.  We don’t have our Melef’s or Crusade.  We simply weren’t ready for a battle.  This was supposed to be a peaceful tour of the border towns remember?  It’s not a scouting party.  If we have prisoners, then we’ll get the information we need, but we can only do that with a clear head.”  It felt strange lecturing Allen about this.  The man was well known for being calm and collected even in the middle of battle.  Unfortunately, his weak spot seemed to be his little sister and their unknown enemy had hit the knight where it hurt the worst.

“Every minute we waste means those bastards are getting further away!  Celena needs to be avenged!”

“Celena doesn’t need crap right now.”  Dilandau snapped.  “I’m the one in charge right now and I decide what she needs.  That’s how it works right?”  Pale fingers tightened on the candlestick and though his voice was strained with exhaustion, he certainly sounded like he was beginning to get some of his confidence back.  “What Dilandau needs right now is a drink.  Vino preferably, though after tonight, I believe that I will accept anything this pigsty has to offer.” 

That certainly brought Allen up short and he spun around to stare in shock at the young Zaibach captain as if seeing him for the first time.  Granted, Dilandau did look quite different than Allen had last seen him.  The blood was gone, as was the tattered dress.  Clad now in Allen’s spare clothes, he looked every inch the picture of Astorian nobility, complete with haughty arrogance.  That he had in spades.  It didn’t matter that the cut of the clothes didn’t quite fit him perfectly; the kid had that air of authority that would make people listen to him even if he was wearing nothing but a potato sack.  No wonder those kids of his had followed him unflinchingly into deadly battle.

“You… you told him Gaddes?”  Allen’s voice warred between betrayal and relief as he turned to look at his second in command.  For his part, the darker man simply shrugged nonchalantly at the accusation.

“What was I supposed to do?  He’s not stupid.  Lying would have just made things worse.  Besides, if we don’t trust him, why should he trust us?”  Deciding that there wasn’t going to be any further explosions of violence, despite both siblings bearing weapons, Gaddes flopped back down on the bed and laced his fingers together behind his head.  “You wanted him to trust us right Boss?”

Allen looked at the youth brandishing the candlestick, then at his second in command and allowed himself a slight sigh of exasperation.  He didn’t like not knowing what his sibling had been told, but even he had to admit that Dilandau looked much calmer than he had before he’d left the room. 

Running his fingers through his long golden hair, the elder Shezar sibling took a moment to reflect on himself over the past few hours.  Much as Gaddes had realized moments before, he saw how short sighted he was being.  Here he was, ready to race off without any information into what could very likely be a trap.  It was stupid, amateurish and worse, it would leave his sister unprotected.

“Dilandau…”  It felt strange to say the name without anger or outrage towards the youth in question.  “How much did he tell you?”  The albino smirked at his question and leaned back against the wall, the candlestick still secure in his grasp.

“Well I know enough to tell you that sex is off the table.”  Gaddes did his best not to choke and Allen felt his jaw tighten at how blithely that was said.  “Of course, that was pretty much a given after you hooked up with that slut from the Mystic Moon.  I mean honestly Allen, she dressed like a whore, and not an overly expensive one.”  On the bed, Gaddes was losing his battle with laughter while Allen struggled to remain calm despite the slight to his friend’s honour.

“She was not a whore and I would advise you not to slander her reputation further.”

“I tried to drive a crima claw through her skull on multiple occasions and you’re upset because I called her a bad name?”  The boy smirked a little wider, enjoying his game of _bait the knight_.  “I truly worry about your priorities.  Speaking of which, where is the scrawny little bitch?” 

“She returned to the Mystic Moon.”  Allen ground out between gritted teeth.  “She felt that she had too much power here and didn’t want to see anyone hurt because of it.”

“Too much power?”  A pale brow rose up at the very thought of such a thing existing.  “You can never have too much.  Are you sure she didn’t just dump you?  Hmm, too bad.  I really wanted to tear her apart.”

“On that note, we will be establishing some ground rules to follow if you’re going to be staying with us as a free man.”  Allen snapped, wanting to head off any overtly psychotic behavior while he had the chance.  “You will not threaten my friends and subordinates.  You will not attack my friends and subordinates nor will you do anything to make them feel uncomfortable or unsafe.”

Unimpressed with what he suspected was going to be a long lecture, the pale youth yawned widely and idly tapped the candlestick against his hand.  Risking a glance over at Gaddes, he gave the darker man a look of mild exasperation.

“He’s not serious is he?”

“I’m afraid so kid.  Remember I warned you that you’ll be expected to act like a civilized human being.  People generally don’t threaten to tear young girls apart.”

“I wasn’t threatening.  I was considering various happy outcomes.”

“Do not ignore me Dilandau.”  Allen cut in, the warning edge in his voice loud and clear to them all.  “This isn’t a game and I don’t believe that you truly want to die.” 

All playfulness immediately drained from the young Zaibach captain at those words and his crimson eyes focussed on the knight with burning intensity.

“No, not yet.  I want revenge even more than you do.  You said this attack was planned, that I was targeted.  I want to know by who and why?   Once I find out those answers, I will find that person and make what I did to Zongi look like an Astorian tea party.”  He smiled and there were simply far too many teeth for it to be a friendly expression.  “Then, I’m going to find every one of those bastards responsible for taking me as a kid and I’m going to skin them alive and hang their flesh from my melfs cloak.” 

Both older men in the room were silent for a long moment, unsure of what to say next.  One thing they all knew was that these weren’t empty threats.  Dilandau meant each and every word.  Worse, he was fully capable of carrying it out without any qualms.

“Speaking of melefs, when do I get one?”  Allen actually grew rather pale at the request, picturing a blood red monstrosity rampaging through the streets of Palas, draped in the flesh of Madoushi while the madman within cackled with laughter.  It was an easy thing to picture and did nothing for his already abused nerves.

“Never.”

“Never?  I never knew you to be one to waste resources.”  Dilandau scoffed.  “I’m the best guimelef pilot on Gaea and you all know it.”

“King Fanel defeated you, and he’s never beaten me in a fight.”

“His armour is possessed and you damn well know it.  He’s a demon and so is his guimelef.  Folken should have let me kill him when I had him.”   Allen frowned, not wanting to get pulled into this argument if it was going to degenerate even further, especially as he saw Dilandau’s hand reach up and stroke the length of the scar on the side of his face.

Wait, the scar was back?  Frowning, the knight stepped towards the youth, only to be brought up short by the candlestick spinning around stopping with perfect precision less than a hairs breadth from the tip of his nose.

“Back off Shezar.  You don’t get to touch me.”  Gaddes was on his feet in an instant, ready to defend his friend.  Thankfully, violence was averted by Allen taking a slight step back.  He was still within the youths reach, but the distance was less threatening.

“Your scar.”  He said instead, noting how Dilandau’s grip tightened on the weapon at his words.  “It’s back?”

“Of course it’s back.”  The albino spat angrily.  “Thank you so much for noticing how badly I’ve been disfigured by your precious little friend.”

“No, I mean to say that Celena didn’t have a scar on her face.  She did have one on her shoulder though from when she fell into a patch of briars when she was four.  It’s on her right shoulder right above the scapula.”

“First you are all trying to convince me that I’m this stupid girl, now you’re saying that I’m not?”  His confusion was evident, but Gaddes followed his train of thought and sat up on the bed, suddenly alert.

“He’s got scars on his wrists as well, I’ve never seen them on Celena.”

“So what?”  Dilandau spat impatiently.  “We’ve already established that my body changes.  Unless Celena had a few interesting anatomical additions?”  He gestured towards his groin, unable to restrain a slight leer in Allen’s direction.  “So what’s so surprising about a few scars appearing?  We’re different people in one body, the Madoushi just decided to be rather literal with the idea.  Now will someone get me that damn vino or do I have to go down to the tavern and get it myself.

“Not one for mincing words are you?”  Gaddes couldn’t help but smile a little.  As much as he hated the brat, he was starting to like him a little as well.

“Life is too short to mince words and honestly, I have more interesting things to do than argue about details that don’t matter.

“My sister matters.”  Allen pressed, sounding angry again.

“Not right now she doesn’t.”  Dilandau shot back.  “She shoved me into the cockpit and ran.  It’s not like I asked to be here.  I was perfectly happy where I was.  But I’m here now and you’re going to have to deal with me because I’m not going away until I kill all my loose ends.”

“Does one of those loose ends happen to be King Fanel?”

“Tell you what.”  The smile Dilandau aimed at Allen was pure poison.  “I won’t go after the demonic brat if you keep him the hell away from me.”  He might hate the Fanelian king, but a deep fear had been beaten into him after seeing all of his friends killed and barely escaping that same fate twice now.  The idea of risking a third time wasn’t worth it, not until the odds were in his favour.

Allen seemed to relax visibly with that little proclamation, trusting Dilandau to keep his word.  He didn’t want to lose the only link he had to his sister and he knew without a doubt that if the Dragon Slayer Captain went after Van again, the king wouldn’t hold back.  There was no way that Dilandau would survive another encounter with Escaflowne.  The guimelef was simply too powerful.

“Here’s the deal Dilandau.”  It was hard to keep the relief out of his voice, but somehow the Knight managed.  “You’ll join my crew and stay with us.  You’ll answer to Gaddes and myself.”  That earned him a sneer but he didn’t let that give him pause.  The youth knew that he wouldn’t survive on his own, not with the entire world hunting for him.  “You’ll respect the rest of the crew and not cause problems with them.  If you have any issues with them personally, you will bring it to either of us rather than settle it yourself.”  Jeture knew, he didn’t need to deal with random stabbings or crewmen being thrown off the Crusade at a thousand feet.  Either one of those he could easily see his sibling doing.

“Fine, but I get a sword.”

“Hell no!”  Gaddes cut in quickly.  “You’ll kill people!”

“Well that is what a sword is for isn’t it?”  Gaddes grit his teeth as the youth drawled mockingly.  Even if they blunted the edge, the man had no doubt that the brat could still use it with lethal precision.

Surprisingly, it was Allen who held up his hand for silence…and actually received it.

“I will allow you to have a sword, but if you draw it for anything other than defense for yourself or a member of this crew you’ll never touch anything more lethal than a butter knife.  Do you understand?”

“Of course.”  Only an idiot would trust that wide grin and Gaddes groaned as he saw Allen nod his head I acknowledgement.

“You’ll get your sword tomorrow when I introduce you to the crew.  Until then, get some sleep.  We’re all exhausted and things are about to get rather busy for all of us.”

“I can go days without sleep and be fine.”  Dilandau argued, insulted at the implication that he was made of flesh and blood like the rest of them.  It didn’t matter that his skin was almost grey with exhaustion and he had dark circles under his eyes.  The teenager would force himself to stay awake just to spite them all.

“Consider it an order.”

“Do I get my own room?”  It seemed that Allen’s trust wasn’t infinite because he shook his head and pointed at the bed.

“Celena’s room isn’t fit for occupancy and I won’t burden the rest of the crew with keeping an eye on you tonight.  You’ll have to earn your privacy Dilandau.  For tonight, you’ll sleep in here where we can keep an eye on you.  After that, we should be aboard the Crusade.  It will be here tomorrow around noon.”  There was no need to point out that it would be airborne and escape would be rather difficult several hundred feet in the air.  “Gaddes, if you would be so kind as to set up your bed by the window?  I’d hate for someone to get the idea for a midnight walk and get lost.”

Nodding his head, Gaddes mentally said goodbye to his nice and comfortable mattress and prepared for a night on the floor.

“And where will you be sleeping dear brother?”  Dilandau smiled sweetly at the knight.  Gaddes quickly headed for the door, not wanting to bear witness to the disturbing level of flirtatiousness lurking beneath the question.  It was bad enough knowing what happened before they knew about their blood kinship.  For Dilandau to continue the game was simply wrong.

He passed Katz who was lounging a few feet away from the door and idly cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his dagger.  While close enough to stop anyone from entering the room without permission, he was far enough away to give the illusion of privacy though Gaddes had no doubt that he’d heard every word.

The hulking blonde looked over at the second in command, his eyes were in their customary squint, but the weight of their gaze was palpable.

“So… no one’s screaming and the crazy laughter’s stopped.  Is the little monster dead or did the Boss just knock him out?”

“Neither actually.”  Gaddes sighed slightly and rand his hands over his weapons, making sure he hadn’t accidentally left any of them where eager hands might find them.  “They’re talking.  It’s sort of scary actually.”  Looking up at the much taller crewman, Gaddes studied his face for any clue of how Katz was taking all of this.  “How much did you hear?”

“Pretty much everything.  You guys weren’t exactly trying to keep the volume down.  No one else got close enough to hear, which is good considering that that kids laugh could send half the crew into nervous breakdowns.

“I can believe that.”  Gaddes murmured despite himself.  “So… How do you think the rest of the crew will react to the Boss’ decision to keep him?”  It wasn’t a subtle attempt to pry information out of Katz, but the night had turned into morning somewhere between one emergency and the next.  Gaddes simply didn’t have the energy for anything but being blunt. 

He watched as Katz’ tense smile faded, his already thin lips pulling into a grim line.  If he looked carefully enough, Gaddes was sure he might even be able to make out the pale blue sliver of a slightly open eye. 

Dropping the act of cleaning his nails, the man pondered the question carefully.  Many often took one look at him and figured that he was nothing but a brute.  The crew knew differently.  Katz was quiet, thoughtful and generally even tempered.  As such, he was an excellent barometer for how the rest of them would react.

“I think the Boss is taking a huge risk with us and with _him_.”  Showing a surprising amount of tact, Katz refrained from actually naming their newest addition.  “There’s no trust on either side and a lot of bad blood.” 

Gaddes felt his spirits fall a little at this assessment but he couldn’t argue with any of the logic so far.

 “However, the kid’s right.”  The crewman continued.  “We’re all following the same goal right now, and that’s finding whoever is behind this and stopping them.  If we separate, we’ll just be at cross purposes and in each other’s way.  Personally speaking, I’ve been in his way before and didn’t like it one bit.  That kid can fight like a demon, he doesn’t give up and he’s right about being one of the best guimelef pilots out there.  Having him on our side would be a huge benefit.  The big problem is controlling him.  I don’t know how Zaibach did it, but having him is going to be like having a feral dog on our side.  We’ll never know who he’s going to bite.”

It was perhaps one of the longest speeches Gaddess had ever heard come out of Katz’ mouth but it showed the level of awareness the man had regarding the situation.  The rest of the crew wouldn’t be nearly as eloquent with their objections.  Maybe buying them all a round or two to soften the blow would help.

“I think I have an idea of how they controlled him.”  Gaddes murmured, remembering the sight of those scarred wrists and the way Dilandau struggled to hide his all too obvious terror whenever the Madoushi were brought up.  “I don’t think any of us have the stomach for it.”  The kid had been tortured, repeatedly over a long period of time.  In fact, Gaddes was willing to bet that it had been psychological as well as physical.  The process to create an entirely different personality so distinct that it had its own body had to have been traumatic beyond reasoning.  Perhaps he really couldn’t fault Dilandau for being as crazy as he was.  While it didn’t absolve the young warrior of his crimes, it perhaps called for a greater level of understanding.

“I think the biggest issue is going to be trust… He’s loyal, dangerously so.  If we can win him over then we’d have a powerful ally.”

“Yeah, he’s loyal, but right now Zaibach holds his leash.  What do we do if they try to call him to heel?”  Grimacing at Katz’ question, Gaddes looked back at the closed door and bit his lip, hating himself for having to give voice to what lurking beneath the concerns of everyone.

“If it comes to that, I’ll put the kid down myself before I let him become their weapon again.  Gaea can’t handle that a second time.”  It felt like a horrible betrayal of Allen’s trust, but he couldn’t stand to see his friends hopes shattered once again.  Better to end Dilandau’s suffering than allow him to become the monster his masters had intended.

“I think the crew will follow the Boss.  They won’t like it, but we all loved Celena, and somewhere deep down, she’s still in there.”


	5. Morning introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dilandau is introduced to the crew and some personal history is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. I'm not making money off of this and don't make enough for it to be worthwhile to sue me.
> 
> There is some citrus flavour to this chapter as we hear a little bit about Allen and Dilandau's past relationship but nothing graphic, that will come later.
> 
> Long chapter!! I actually prefer longer chapters so I might keep this up for the next few.

Allen wasn’t entirely sure why he was waking up on the floor, but no matter how many times he blinked and looked around, he found that it was in fact the reality of the situation.  What was also fact was that he seemed to have done this deliberately which was rather unusual considering there was a perfectly serviceable bed not too far away. 

The pre-dawn light was a deep indigo, painting everything in monochromatic tones and rendered edges into soft, flat shapes.  The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour at least, making the very fact that he was awake as unusual as his sleeping arrangements.

Familiar soft snores informed him that in another incongruity, he was sharing the room with Gaddes, only the sounds were coming from the indistinct dark blob of blankets by the window.  So then, if he was sleeping by the door, and his second in command was below the window, who in Jeture’s name had the damn bed?

Sitting up, he shifted around to get a better view of the bed usurper and frowned as he heard a soft and pained whimper from beneath the thick blankets.   The sound was familiar and his sleep fogged brain warned him that this was what had woken him up in the first place. 

“Gatti….Chesta… no…keep them away from me… you promised that you’d protect me from them…Please… please no…”  There was so much heartbreak in that voice that Allen was on his feet in an instant and stepping towards the bed before his brain even realized that he’d moved.

Dilandau was tangled up helplessly in the covers, his body thrashing violently as he struggled against the constricting sheets, his cries growing more and more fearful with every passing moment.  Silver hair was damp with sweat as was the boys pale brow, making him practically glow in the fading moonlight. 

Even as Allen watched, his breathing grew more panicked and the knight began to honestly fear that he might hurt himself in his sleep if this continued.  The reaction required no thought at all on his part.  He simply climbed onto the bed and gently began to untangle the blankets from those slender thrashing limbs.  A foot kicked out viciously, narrowly missing hitting him in the stomach and a fist glanced off his shoulder, causing him to grunt softly in pain.  Despite his slender build, the albino was far stronger than he looked and Allen felt no small pang of sympathy for the endless hours of training the boy had had to endure to achieve that sleek physique. 

The first brush of his skin against the boys arm caused a spike in the violence of his attacks, but Allen risked a rather ringing blow to his head and gently drew the sleeping boy against him, keeping his touches as gentle as possible.

“Shhh, I’m here and no one is going to hurt you.”  He murmured softly, carefully stroking his fingers through those damp silvery locks.  Dilandau relaxed almost immediately and with a soft whimper, practically burrowed against the knight.

“Don’t leave me alone… keep them away…promised…”  Sighing softly, Dilandau’s grimace became a soft smile and he took a deep breath, falling into a deeper sleep.  Allen couldn’t help but watch as the many masks fell away from the boy’s face, revealing a look of heart wrenching innocence.  It was a lie of course, the instant those crimson eyes opened, the illusion would be shattered, but for the moment, the Knight of Caeli could only look and remember another time, holding this young silver haired god in his arms.

“So… you and him huh?”  Gaddes’ voice pulled Allen out of his reverie but the knight kept from stiffening in reaction and waking up the youth.   There wasn’t any accusation in his friend’s voice, just confusion and concern.

Glancing over at the figure by the window who was now sitting up as well, Allen allowed himself a faint smile as he continued to stroke his little brother’s hair.

“It was well over a year ago, a few colours before Fanelia was attacked.”  It felt strange talking about this.  He hadn’t ever told anyone about the short lived affair, keeping it as one of his most closely guarded secrets.  “King Aston was working on some trade deals with Zaibach.  Thinking back, it should have been obvious that they were preparing for a war, but we didn’t know any better back then.”  He sighed softly, remembering what it had been like to be that naïve.

“There was a delegation.  Strategos Folken was there as were several captains.  Dilandau was one of them.  He was pretty much their poster boy and they were waving him around as an example of Zaibach training.”  A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered his view of the youth, standing there next to the other captains who were all twice his weight and over three times his age.  “King Aston had asked if the boy was the Strategos’ apprentice and why he was in armour.  He couldn’t believe that someone that young could lead a squad let alone hold a captains rank.”

“Jeture… I’m surprised that the kid didn’t kill him right there and then.”  Gaddes murmured softly.  “War be damned, I can’t imagine him swallowing an insult like that.”

“Oh, he bit back.  He looked King Aston in the eye and calmly demanded that he name his champion to duel in front of the whole court.”  Gaddes had to fight to keep from giving a low whistle as he pictured the brash youth doing just that.   “Most likely it was all some sort of setup because Strategos Folken was rather quick to spin it as a friendly display between the two countries.  It did seem like the perfect opportunity to show off their military and technological prowess without being overt about it.

“Or he was just used to his little captain pulling stunts like this.”  There was no point in denying it.  Both men knew that either option was just as likely.

I heard about that fight though.”  Gaddes continued.  “The King’s champion was Sir Leithreas right?  The Knight of Caeli with the godawful moustache?  Didn’t he hate your guts?”

“One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”  The blonde knight murmured softly though inwardly he did allow himself a small measure of satisfaction as he remembered the memorable battle. 

The two melefs had squared off in the arena.  Leithreas piloted his hereditary armour and Dilandau was in some standard Zaibach melef.

“The King should have had you champion him.”  Gaddes stated with utmost confidence, earning himself a fond smile from his friend.  “You’re a far better fighter than that moustachioed fop, in and out of a guymelef.  I heard the kid made mincemeat out of him.”

“He tore the guymelef apart.”  Allen agreed softly.  “Piece by piece.  Sir Leithreas was overconfident and believed that he didn’t have to take someone that young seriously.”  He imagined that a great many people had made that mistake with Dilandau.  They would see his youth or his lovely looks as a sign of weakness.  Even in the short time that Zaibach had been at the capital, there’d been rumours of the exotic albino achieving his high rank through various carnal favours rather than skill.  Of course, most of those had been put to rest after the duel.  There simply was no faking that level of skill. 

“So how did you two hit it off?   I am of course assuming that there was some talking involved…”  Gaddes couldn’t quite keep the playful leer from his lips and Allen rolled his eyes even as his fingers still gently stroked the silver hair as one would with a spoiled cat.  Still deep in an exhausted sleep, Dilandau snuggled a little closer to Allen, drawing comfort from the gentle touch.

“It was at the welcoming celebration that night.  I wasn’t on duty for it, so could actually mingle a little.  Not that I really wanted to; seeing as how I was still out of favour.   Princess Millerna had talked me into it, which just seemed to add fuel to the fire as far as the rumour mill was concerned.

“I saw him standing by the balcony and thought that he looked like he wanted to be there even less than I did.  None of the Astorians were speaking to him seeing as how he’d so utterly defeated our champion and the Zaibach delegation didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with him.  The other captains  outright avoided him and only the Strategos seemed to speak to him… usually while divesting him of whatever drink he was holding at the time.”  Allen paused, looking down at his sleeping sibling, trying to form the right words to describe how he’d felt as he’d watched the youth that night. 

The knight had been drawn to him, felt as if there was some strange connection between the two of them… which he now understood, rather too late.  How to explain how exotic and beautiful he’d found the youth, how his spirit shone like a beacon from across the room and how the palace and the gaudily dressed nobles had seemed to be little more than window dressing in comparison to this young icon of alabaster ferocity. 

Intrigued by this young warrior, he’d snagged two glasses of fine vino from a passing servant and approached.  Choosing to position himself to block the view of the Zaibach Strategos, allowing the youth to actually enjoy a glass of the apparently illicit drink, he’d actually been favoured with a wry smile of amusement.

He’d found in the Zaibach captain a kindred spirit in his love of swordsmanship and the two happily discussed the duel as well as various past engagements.  It had been a surprise to learn that Zaibach practiced a system in which orphans or children of destitute families were given an education and a future, though required in repayment, a term of service in the military.  Being one such child, Dilandau had spent the majority of his life training.  Rather than resenting his enforced enlistment, the teenager was in fact deeply grateful for the opportunities it had provided and was eager to study any techniques Astoria’s famed Knights of Caeli might be willing to share.

For the first time in a while, Allen had lost all track of time in the company of the youth, as well as all track of how many drinks they’d imbibed.  It had seemed like such a natural idea to slip away from the party when the Strategos was distracted.  He’d promised the youth a tour of the palace, but they’d ended up simply heading to his rooms.   

The knight smiled to himself at the memory of that heated night when he’d lost what few inhibitions he’d still harboured.  For all of his youth, Dilandau had been no blushing virgin and had in fact shown Allen more than a few things which had left him breathless with discovery. 

Heated kisses had seared every inch of his body and he would never forget that oh so tight excruciating heat which had made him cry out in pleasure over and over again.  He’d never been with anyone so bold or demanding yet so searing in their passion before.  It was rather like making love to fire itself and even now, a lifetime later, he could still feel that desire aching deep inside. 

“You still want him don’t you?”  While Gaddes didn’t sound as if he was accusing his friend of vile incestuous thoughts, his voice lacked any tone of approval. 

“I knew him as a lover for colours.”  He replied softly.  “Longer than I knew of the blood between us.” 

“Did he feel the same way about you?”  Dark eyes were bright with interest as Gaddes tried to guess how long the relationship had lasted.  Could that have been why Dilandau had been so disgusted when Allen had named Hitomi as his new lover?  Well, going on a rampage and razing the fort was certainly one way to express his jealousy. 

“We… we never really discussed feelings.”  Allen murmured softly.  “There was no point.  After the delegation left Astoria, we only saw each other a few more times and we both knew that our priorities were our countries.  But when we were together…whenever he’d wake up in the mornings, he’d look at me as if I was the one person he’d been waiting for his whole life.”  Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Allen looked down at the sleeping face of the youth in his arms, wondering if he’d ever see that look again. 

Back then, he’d thought that it had meant that despite the odds against them, Dilandau had secretly loved him and had simply never dared to reveal it.  Now, it seemed far more likely that in those few moments between sleep and wakefulness, his sibling had recognized him deep down in the depths of his mind.  Recognized him and prayed to be taken away from the nightmare he was enduring.  “I should have acted on it… I should have taken him away from it all.” 

“You didn’t know what was going on.  It was just a tryst like any other… well, not like any other...I never really figured you for liking anything other than women.  I mean I know Zaibach doesn’t really care what their soldiers do, so long as they’re ready to fight when they’re told, but if anyone at court had caught wind of this…” 

Both men gave a little shudder at the thought. Astoria might not have driven him away with mobs and burning torches.  That was far too uncivilized for them.  Instead, he would have been quietly retired him from court life, especially on the heels of his previous disgraces.  What was moderately permissible for commoners simply wasn’t tolerated in the gentry. 

Gaddes looked at the two men on the bed, perhaps a tad envious of how beautiful and perfect they looked together… silver and gold, shining in the predawn light.

“Just promise to be careful with him Boss.”  He said after a long silence, his voice soft and gentle.

“I have no intention of seducing my little brother… no matter how much he might want it.”  Allen hadn’t been oblivious to the innuendo and the flirting when the teenager wasn’t threatening his life.  He’d also noted that despite all that had happened between them during the war, there was still a trust.  It brought Celena to him, it stayed Dilandau’s hand tonight when he could have easily slit Allen’s throat and run.  Even now, the tortured warrior somehow felt safe enough to sleep in his onetime enemies arms.

Despite this docility, Allen had no doubt that if he did anything to break that precious trust, Dilandau would do far worse than slaughter a fortress full of people in retaliation.

“And you’re seriously going to let him have a sword?  On our side or not, he’s still crazy… you know that right?”

“Because there’s power to belief.”  Allen watched as Dilandau’s nose wrinkled slightly and he snuggled a little closer, beginning to wake up.  “Hitomi taught me that.  If we continue to believe that he’s a monster, what’s the point of him even trying?  I’ll believe in the best of him.”

“Not to sound like the bad guy Boss… but didn’t most of Hitomi’s visions and what not always end up full of doom and destruction?”

“mmm…. Allen?”  Crimson eyes blinked open, looking up at the knight.  Dilandau couldn’t help but smile for a moment, feeling safer and warmer than he had in far too long.  A strong arm was wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close while deft fingers gently stroked his hair.  He’d always loved the calmness he felt whenever someone played with his hair, but had always felt that admitting to such was a great weakness. 

A strong heart beat just beneath his cheek, so achingly familiar that for a moment he didn’t regret waking up.

Waking up…

Waking up to a world without his Slayers

Waking up to a world where Zaibach had lost

Waking up to a world where he wasn’t supposed to have ever existed…

 

His hand swung out almost on its own volition, slapping Allen across the face hard enough to rock the man’s head back.  Vaulting out of the bed, Dilandau landed neatly on the balls of his feet, positioning himself so that neither man flanked him properly as he readied himself for the expected attack.

“Shezar you pervert!”  He hissed, his eyes blazing at the indignity of waking up in the arms of his enemy.  “How dare you crawl into bed with me!” 

Allen sat there with an utterly stunned look on his face while Gaddes simply leaned back against the wall looking thoroughly amused.

“Doom and destruction Boss.”  He chuckled before standing up straight and slapping the wrinkles out of his breeches.  “Well, now that we’re all up, I’m going to see if there’s any food in the kitchens for us.  It’s going to be a long day after all.”

“Bring up a bottle of vino.”  Dilandau ordered imperiously, earning himself an even wider grin from the dark haired man.

“You’ll get small beer like the rest of us.”  That earned him a look of utter disgust which he promptly ignored.  “Unless you want to try the water.  I wouldn’t recommend it though unless you feel like spending the day sitting on a bucket.”  The now much more familiar sneer graced Dilandau’s lovely features as he glared at the second in command.

“You’re country has pathetic irrigation systems.”

“Your country polluted the wells in the area.  Deal with it.”  He quickly left while the teen struggled for a comeback to that one.  The silence however was short lived and moments after the door closed, he turned towards Allen with a dangerous glint in his eyes.  “You let your subordinates speak so disrespectfully?  I’d have sent my Slayers to the infirmary for daring to act in such a manner.”  Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared down at the still stunned knight who was gently rubbing his injured cheek.

Somehow Allen managed to resist biting back by pointing out that at least his subordinates were still alive.  He was rather sure that would start the day off on the wrong foot.  Instead, he slowly stood up and made a show of straightening his clothes.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“What are you talking about Shezar?”  Hearing the cold suspicion in the teen’s voice made Allen ache for that special second of trust which had existed between them only minutes ago.

“The reason I was on the bed with you.  My presence seemed to calm you down and I figured that you could use the sleep.”  Once again, Dilandau didn’t have a sharp retort and he turned away to glare around the room in disgust.

“Does this shack have anywhere to properly bathe?  A bowl of stagnant water isn’t exactly going to clean me properly after last night.  I still have that bastard’s blood under my nails… and between my teeth I think… did I bite him?”  Now it was Allen’s turn for awkward silence.  “Don’t bother answering that.  I’ll require a tooth brush as well.” 

“I’m not your servant Dilandau.”

“Yes yes, I’m quite aware of that, but unless you want me wandering about the place, you should find me some proper toiletries… Ah, but of course, you don’t want to miss watching me give myself another sponge bath…”  The look he shot the knight was equal parts challenge and invitation.  Allen could only sigh in exasperation.

“What part of _I’m your brother_ are you failing to understand?”  He was rather amazed that his voice stayed level and calm considering how off balance he felt with the teen’s mercurial temperament.  It was one of Dilandau’s less attractive traits as far as he was concerned.

“All of it I suppose.”  Utterly unconcerned, the youth stretched languorously and smiled.  “I don’t remember ever having a family.  My Dragon Slayers were the closest I ever came to that and I certainly never had problems sleeping with any of them.”  Allen gritted his teeth but stayed silent, realizing that he was being baited.  Dilandau craved attention after all and had little care as to what manner it was expressed

“I’ll arrange for a tub, but I’ll warn you that in a town like this it won’t be at all what you’re used to.”  The knight warned.  Though he wanted to tease Dilandau for his snobbish behavior, he couldn’t help but remember his own dismay at learning that the village’s bath house had been destroyed in the war and was only partially rebuilt.  For some reason they’d seen their homes as the priority, not that Dilandau would care.  For him, the very act of denying him a bath was likely a burning offense.

“So when do I get to interrogate the prisoner?”  The young captain didn’t even bother hiding the eagerness in his voice or the sudden flare of murderous fire in his eyes.  Yet again, Allen was left scrambling to catch up to the conversational leap, leaving him wondering how in Jeture’s name he’d put up with it when they’d been involved with each other.  Oh yes… the mind blowing sex… ugh, had he really been that shallow?

“You will not be interrogating anyone Dilandau.”  Allen all but growled, fully aware of what the youth’s idea of “questioning” entailed.  Frankly, he didn’t have the stomach for that, nor did any of the crew, and they certainly weren’t going to leave him alone with the prisoner.

Likely guessing the knights thoughts by the look on his face, Dilandau rolled his eyes in annoyance, muttering something about gutless men pretending to be warriors.  Taking the high road, Allen refused to acknowledge hearing him. 

It was a relief when Gaddes returned with a tray of fresh bread, some aged cheese and three mugs of small beer.  He looked rather proud of himself until Dilandau scoffed at the meal, stating that he preferred fresh fruit in the mornings.  Still, that didn’t stop him from reluctantly tearing a hunk of bread for himself and biting into it hungrily.

“Most of the men are already up Boss.”  Gaddes said between mouthfuls, earning a look of utter disgust from Dilandau for speaking with his mouth full.  “I figured we could tell them the plan after they ate.  Men with full stomachs are much calmer than hungry ones.

“Worried that you can’t control your men Shezar?”  Dilandau smirked widely, radiating amusement at the blonde’s discomfort.  Gaddes glared at the albino and took a long drink of his small beer, swallowing noisily.

“You haven’t exactly endeared yourself to anyone kid.”  He replied in the knight’s stead.  “It’s only because of Celena and the Boss that you didn’t get strung up by your guts last night, so don’t try goading them.”

“Oh please, I’m hardly afraid of that rabble.”

“What part of _on the same side_ are you failing to understand kid?  We’re in this together.  Our enemies are your enemies, so don’t go trying to fight a battle on two fronts.”

“What part of your little brain is failing to understand that the war might have been over for you for the past few colours, but to me, we were still fighting yesterday.”  Dilandau snarled back hotly, turning away from the two men and pacing the room like a caged panther.  “You’re both full of this idea of working together, fighting the bad men and whatever other stupid heroics you have in mind but understand this.  I don’t care about your crew.  I don’t care about your feelings or making friends with Astorian scum.  What I care about is finding the people who attacked me and sending a message that the next group to so much as think about raising a hand to me would rather die than follow through.”

Allen stared at Dilandau, unable to hide how deeply those words wounded him.  Gaddes, having so much less of an emotional investment simply took another large sip of his drink and shrugged.

“At least he’s honest about it.”

 

 *******

The crew glared at Allen angrily, Ort was flipping one of his knives up and down repeatedly, his dark eyes glinting in challenge.  Kio leaned against the wall, his lips turned down in an uncharacteristic frown as he took measured sips from a slightly foaming mug.  Katz stood by the door, ensuring that everyone behaved themselves to some extent while the rest of the crew grumbled loudly amongst themselves, pausing only to glare at the slender silvery figure standing between Allen and Gaddes.

With one hand resting idly on a slightly cocked hip and dressed in Allen’s spare uniform, Dilandau looked every inch the cocky captain he used to be.  His crimson eyes regarded the room full of angry men with little more than idle boredom, as if they were all beneath his interest and lacked the power to affect his life. 

Gaddes couldn’t help but study the youth surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye, remembering the boy’s earlier outburst.  Had the Zaibach captain really meant it when he’d said that to him, only a day had passed since that bloody battle which had ended the Destiny War?  In his mind, had he been actively trying to kill them all mere hours ago?  If so, then he was witnessing a rather impressive amount of restraint from someone whose utter lack of such was near legendary. 

He had a rather strong feeling that the bored attitude was just yet another mask and that the kid was likely scared out of his mind.  Surrounded by enemies, deep behind the battle lines with a hole in his memories six colours long and knowing that no help was coming… This kid had a will of iron to keep up that steady façade, and it was likely a good thing.  The men hadn’t forgotten the atrocities he’d committed during the war and if they smelled fear, they’d pounce.

“You can’t be serious Boss.  After what this little psycho did to us?  He laughed as he killed them!”  Ort snapped heatedly, snatching his knife out of the air and looking ready to throw it at the bored looking teenager.  “Give him half a chance and he’ll do it again.”

“We can’t turn him loose though.”  Teo murmured almost apologetically, clearly not wanting to be speaking in Dilandau’s favour.  “We need to find a way to get Celena back… and really, do we want him running around free?”

“Great!  So we toss him in the holding cell on the Crusade when she gets here!  It’s simple.”  Reeden grinned slightly, looking delighted with this idea.  “He’ll be safe, and so will we.  It’s win win.”  There were a rather disturbing number of people who seemed more than happy to support this suggestion. 

Normally, Gaddes would have heartily endorsed it but he knew that Allen’s mind was already set and honestly he was rather sure that sticking Dilandau in that tiny little cell wouldn’t be nearly as simple an endeavor as Reeden made it sound.  Fatalities were likely.

“The war is over.”  Allen interjected before too many people could agree with this idea.  “We all suffered injustice on both sides.  We all felt losses and we dealt each other terrible wounds.  It was war, and if you all remember, by the end, none of us were saints.  If we continue to punish others for their actions during that dark time then we’ve learned nothing from Hitomi’s lessons.”  Cold blue eyes swept over his crew and Gaddes had to shiver a little at how the Knight of Caeli could radiate authority and command so easily.  With just a few words, the unruly group had fallen silent.  Even Dilandau looked like he was listening.

“Dilandau is my brother.”  The blond stated; reaffirming what they all knew and all struggled desperately to deny.  “He was hurt by these raiders just as we were.  He could have run before we got there, but he didn’t.  He had ample chances to kill me last night but he stayed his hand.”  It was likely best that Allen didn’t mention the whole knife to his throat thing.  Gaddes was sure it wouldn’t go over well at this time.  “We have a common enemy who is a danger to not only the good people of Astoria, but to himself personally.  That gives him a vested interest in helping us see this through.”

“Yeah… and when it’s over?  What then?”  Ort sneered openly at the albino, practically daring him to make a sudden move.  Instead of snarling and threatening their lives like the others no doubt expected, the young captain simply crossed his arms over his chest and stared evenly at the bald knife thrower, daring him to look away first. 

“You seem to forget that I’m not the problem.”  His voice was soft, little more than a smooth purr but it caused the blood of ever man present to run cold.  They’d all heard that voice mere hours before Castelo was burned to the ground.  “I didn’t ask to be here.  Those bastards dragged me into this against my will, but I’m here now and I plan to … express my displeasure with each and every one of them.”  He seemed to savour the words, taste them as one would a fine wine and more than one seasoned warrior in the room shuddered.

 Ort couldn’t hold that burning gaze and looked away from those twin gates of hell.  Kio snickered softly as he saw their fierce comrade back down, earning himself an elbow in the ribs.

“He’s already agreed to work with us as a member of the crew.  Dilandau will take orders from Gaddes and myself.  He will also work alongside the rest of you and I expect mutual cooperation from everyone.”  They all recognized the no nonsense tone of voice in the knight and several men reluctantly nodded their heads.  “If I hear about anyone goading the other into a fight, both parties will be dealt with harshly.  We have a mission and I won’t tolerate infighting.” 

“You can’t expect us to just forget our dead Boss.”  Ort grumbled obstinately, subdued but still bristling visibly. 

“I don’t expect you to.”  Allen’s harsh tones gentled, becoming warm and understanding as he smiled at the crewman.  “But I expect the sacrifices made during the war to be respected.  We chose peace rather than war, do you remember?  After all we’ve been through, all they died for, will you choose to raise your sword against a potential ally in the name of revenge?” 

Gaddes wasn’t the only one to let out a deep breath as Ort finally backed down and sheathed his knives.  He didn’t look happy about the situation, but he’d follow his orders.  The men might be rough and undisciplined compared to most other units, but they were loyal and steadfast… they just needed to be reminded of that occasionally.

“Excellent, so now that we’ve agreed not to slit each other’s throats, can we interrogate the prisoner?  I’m sick of talking and I want some damn answers.”  Dilandau didn’t even bother to keep the nearly jovial tones out of his voice as he grinned at Allen expectantly.

“ _We_ will not be interrogating the prisoner.”  Allen sliced neatly through the anticipation with his cool tones and it was rather startling how quickly Dilandau’s face could shift from childish delight to downright murderous in less than an eye blink.  Unfazed, the knight continued to speak.  “I will be speaking with the prisoner.  You will be going with Gaddes and Kio to look through our stores and find a suitable disguise for you.  There’s too high a risk of someone recognizing you and sounding an alarm.”

“Who cares what some stupid peasants say?”  The young captain shot back, making the crew wonder if he honestly was that short sighted or was simply doing his best to needle the Knight of Caeli.  Likely the latter seeing as how the kid had survived growing up in the most ruthless empire on Gaea.

“The peasants as you so delightfully call them would bring the attention of the Crown, but more importantly, whoever is behind this might not be aware that you’re conscious.  If they still think that they’re dealing with Celena that gives us an advantage.”

“I’m NOT wearing a dress again Schezar.”  The men might have laughed at that mental image but the look of bloody murder on the youths face quelled any amusement.  Truce or no truce, there was no doubt that he’d murder anyone who mocked him over his dual existence.

Unlike the rest of them, Allen wasn’t at all bothered by the silent threat.  That was mostly due to the fact that he’d crossed blades with the teenager several times and walked away with his life, though he wasn’t going to wholly discount the power of their familial bond, whether Dilandau openly acknowledged it or not.

“Of course not.”   The knight replied smoothly.  “I was thinking of making you look more like a member of the crew.  Out here, no one is familiar enough with us to recognize a newcomer.  We’ll hide you in plain sight.”

Though Dilandau nodded his head in acceptance of this reasoning, Gaddes and Kio shared a slightly pained glance at the prospect of making someone as openly exotic in appearance as Dilandau inconspicuous.

 

 

Two hours later found them in the hold of the Crusade examining the finished product and still sharing dubious looks with each other.  Gaddes had to admit that the change was definitely an impressive one, but there was no way it would hold up under close inspection, not unless they could do something about the kids colouring.

Dilandau had tolerated the clothes they’d piled on him with surprising patience, sorting through the various bits and pieces which had accumulated on the ship over the past year of war.  Most of the articles were cast offs from the crew or clothing left by those who hadn’t survived the various battles.  Some had simply been left by people they’d ferried across Gaea in one of their many travels.

The trick had been finding clothing that would actually fit the youth’s slender frame, especially seeing as how Dilandau had sneered at looser garments, preferring those which hugged his body in proper Zaibach fashion.  He also openly loathed the large puffed sleeves favoured by Astorian fashion and immediately cast aside any shirts which fell into that category. 

Gaddes and Kio both leaned against the wall and did their best not to be too bored.  Neither of them was enjoying playing babysitter, though both knew that it was necessary.  One simply didn’t let a former enemy like Dilandau wander freely about the Crusade.  Still, watching the kid sort through various clothes, muttering under his breath in disgust at the numerous puffed sleeve blouses stockpiled in the ship was about as exciting as watching grass grow. 

He’d changed clothes with the utter lack of modesty which could only come from a lifetime of military quarters; where privacy was a luxury rarely indulged in.  Kio averted his gaze, uncomfortable with the knowledge that this had once been Allen’s little sister.  Gaddes watched the teenager carefully however.  He’d learned the hard way that a moment of inattention was all the kid needed to become lethal.

“Surprised he’s not demanding that we dig out his old armour for him to strut around in.”  Kio murmured softly as they watched him slip into a pair of loose leather pants which had once belonged to a long dead member of the Castillo garrison.  Gaddes nodded vaguely to himself, though mostly he was noting the slender yet rock hard muscles sliding beneath alabaster skin.   Despite being in the body of a young noblewoman for six colours, he certainly hadn’t lost his toned physique and it was a sobering realization that while the Crusade crew had been enjoying this welcome time of peace, Dilandau was both physically and mentally fresh from a war.  He could likely give them all a run for their money if he put his mind to it. Hell, he could likely head out and track down those bandits and deal them some rather lethal blows before they took him down.  So why was the kid cooperating? 

There had to be more behind it than the need for anonymity from his crimes.  Jeture knew that the kid had never spared a moment’s consideration regarding the repercussions for his actions before.  Of course, that was back when he had an army supporting him and the joys of superior firepower.

“Also surprised he’s not raising a fuss over us not waiting on him hand and foot.”  Kio allowed himself a light chuckle and pulled out a thin dagger to pick some food out from between his teeth.   “Bet those boys of his all scrambled to wipe his ass whenever he took a shit.”

“Firstly, I’m not an idiot.  Wearing my old armour would be stupid if I’m attempting to be incognito.  It’s rather distinctive and Allen’s right that we should keep my identity secret.”  Gaddes stiffened at the sound of that purring voice.  It reeked of barely controlled rage and he didn’t need to look to know that those crimson eyes were smoldering.  “Secondly, I’m a soldier first and foremost.  That makes me perfectly capable of performing my required tasks without having someone hold my hand or wipe my ass.” 

The voice dropped an octave and both men could actually feel the temperature in the room drop as Dilandau walked over to Kio and looked up at him.  It didn’t matter that the Crusade pilot had nearly a foot and a half on him in height, not to mention three times his muscle mass.  The kid somehow managed to tower over the older man even while looking up at him.

“Thirdly, don’t ever disparage my Dragon Slayers.  I will not tolerate any insult directed at them.  They were worth more than any of your crew to me and I won’t hesitate to defend their honour.”  He leaned forward slightly, well within Kio’s personal space and Gaddes was hardly surprised when the larger man actually took a step back.

Though his face appeared to be perfectly calm, Gaddes could see that Dilandau was trembling visibly though it was hard to tell if it was from rage or grief.  Judging by the youths earlier reactions, it could be either.

“Y..yeah, got it.”  The large pilot nodded his head, taking another step back and he didn’t relax until Dilandau turned away from him and resumed sorting through the bits of clothing his movements quick and violent as he tried to focus his rage on something that wouldn’t cost him his new allies. 

“You know…” Gaddes shot Kio a warning look to keep him from saying anything else to set off the young captain.  “The disguise would work better if we could do something about your colouring.  My mother knew of some flowers we could boil to add some gold hues to your hair… or nut paste to make it brown.  She told me how to do it and either would be less noticeable than that silvery white you have now.”

That suggestion earned him another glare of death but Gaddes refused to back down.  Allen had stated that he was in charge of the brat and seeing as how all of his known life he’d been raised in the military, he was likely conditioned to respond to a confident leader.  So long as he never showed fear to the kid, he would follow orders… at least in theory.  Jeture he really wished he knew how Folken had kept the kid on his leash.   Then, remembering the scars on the boy’s wrists, he decided that perhaps he was better off not knowing.

“Silver hair is still within Astorian coloration.”  Dilandau all but growled and Gaddes met his glare with one of his own.

“For the nobility sure, not for commoners and especially not that shade.”

“I’m not dying my hair.”  Those crimson eyes flickered and for a moment Gaddes could almost see a shadow of screaming pain behind them as some memory rose up to haunt the youth.  He could almost imagine that the boy might actually beg to keep his hair untouched.  For someone who’s very identity had so recently come into question, the act of physically altering his appearance was simply too much. 

While there was the immediate temptation to press his advantage and force the issue simply for his own sense of satisfaction, Gaddes merely nodded slightly.    In his head, he could still hear those terrified whimpers from Dilandau’s nightmares, begging for someone to protect him and it made him wonder if the kid actually had ever had anyone to stand up for him.  Simply having him realize that there was someone on his side might be exactly what they need to win his trust and cooperation. 

“Let’s see if we can find a hat or headscarf… or something.”  He found himself suggesting, earning surprised looks from the two others.  While Kio looked more than a little skeptical, Dilandau couldn’t quite keep the look of relief off of his face.  “We’ll need something to hide your eyes as well.  Hair is one thing but those eyes are unique kid.”

This time Dilandau actually nodded his head in agreement and sorted through the pile.  Kio and Gaddes actually exchanged somewhat surprised looks at his sudden compliance and the second in command had to wonder if maybe all it took to work with Dilandau was to give him some leeway.

As if sensing his thoughts, the albino glanced up and couldn’t resist giving them a slight smirk.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”  Dammit, the kid was a mind reader or something.  “My eyes are sensitive to the light.  It’s never really been a problem in Zaibach, or in a melef but out here if it’s a bright day I’ll get migraines from the light if I’m outside for too long.  The sun will also burn my skin, so the more covered I am, the better, unless you have some oils for that.  Folken used to make some creams for me whenever I had to be out for more than a few minutes.” 

Again, both men stood there gaping at the very thought that their former enemy was revealing such physical weaknesses to them.  Of course doing so was in his own self-interest, but Gaddes could only imagine how galling it was for someone as proud as Dilandau to admit to.

“Is it because you’re an albino?”  Kio asked, honestly curious.  “Celena didn’t have those problems.”  He stiffened as soon as the words left his mouth, realizing that he’d likely trodden out into dangerous ground.  Instead, Dilandau simply nodded his head.

“The Madoushi talked about trying to fix it,” He shrugged, the gesture was an attempt at casualness but Gaddes had studied him enough to know that there was something very off about the gesture.  “They considered it to be a defect…”  Nervously he began to paw through another pile and then grinned in delight as he pulled out some goggles used for welding.  Slipping them on over his face, he adjusted the strap a few times so that they sat comfortably on his face and looked around.  “Hmmm, a little dark, but not bad.  I can manage with these.” 

The goggles also had the added effect of slightly altering the lines of his face just enough to prevent immediate recognition.  A few more adjustments and he’d slipped a lock of hair beneath the strap so that the long silvery strands covered the all too identifying scar on his cheek without it appearing too obvious.

“There.  Now I’m just some pale nobleman’s by-blow.  There should be enough of them out there to keep anyone from questioning beyond the first look.”  Dilandau sounded so confident in his disguise and Gaddes had to admit that he was utterly different from the Zaibach captain who’d strode confidently through Castillo fortress shortly before razing it to the ground.  Now he was wearing a light green workshirt, worn leather pants with slightly scuffed knees, sturdy boots and a long coat which looked suspiciously like it had been left by Dryden made up the rest of the ensemble.  It was clothes he doubted the proud warrior had ever worn in his life, but he was doing so now without complaint.

What annoyed Gaddes was that even with the common clothes, the boy’s exotic beauty still stood out like a beacon.  It would draw the eye of anyone who saw him and in fact the rough wrappings seemed to enhance it.  His uniform had given him this untouchable aura, but now, he was more like a rare treasure suddenly discovered and made all the more precious by his lowly surroundings.  It made the second in command feel scruffy and ill kept though he knew from years of experience that he was considered to be rugged and more than passably handsome.  Dammit, even with clothes the kid was putting him off balance!

“So what can you do anyway kid?”  Kio asked offhandedly, managing to relax slightly after seeing the slight crack in the Zaibach’s armour.

“Don’t call me kid.  I have a name.”  Though Dilandau wasn’t being openly threatening, there was a clear note of warning in his voice.

“We can’t exactly use your name though, that sort of defeats the purpose of the whole disguise thing.”  The large man pressed, his tone friendly as his good nature shone through the distrust he felt for the youth.   Kio had always been good at adapting to various situations and really this wasn’t any different.  If the Boss said that the kid was an ally, then that’s what he was until he acted differently.  Of course, he wasn’t going to invite the teenager to spar with him anytime soon, but he could at least treat him like a part of the crew.  “We’ll call you Dylan.  It’s close enough to your actual name but no one would think to link the two.”

Dilandau actually shuddered at the name, disgust clear on his face.

“I loathe abbreviations.”

“I can tell.”  Kio grinned a little wider; there was no malice in his expression despite the dark glower he was receiving.  “Well did you have any nicknames your friends gave you?”   

“They called me by my proper titles.”  There was no amusement in his voice and Gaddes quickly looked around for something a topic change before the teenagers rather limited patience ran out.

“So… Kio had asked what skills you have other than piloting guimelefs?”  Favouring the large pilot with another dark look, Dilandau then glanced over at Gaddes suspiciously, seeking some barb hidden beneath the words.  For several seconds he was silent, weighing his answers against keeping potentially valuable information to himself.

“Hand to hand and weapon fighting, you name the weapon and I’ve most likely been trained in it.”  The teenager replied so casually that it left little doubt that he was an expert in what he claimed.  “Tactics, wilderness survival, I’m an excellent tracker.”  A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he remembered how he’d managed to always find that damned White Dragon no matter where it had been hidden.  The smile quickly faded as he remembered just how much of that last skill had been the result of the Madoushi tinkering with his body and mind. 

“I can pilot any guimelef you put me in and I know enough electronics and mechanics to keep one operating properly so long as I have the equipment and parts.”  He looked away as he spoke, doing his best not to remember that Dallet had always been their best emergency mechanic whenever they needed to do field repairs…especially repairs from some stupid stunt they didn’t want Folken to hear about.  Gatti had been the team’s electronics wizard and once had been able to build a radio from spare parts, letting them tap into the coms of the other melef units on board the Vionne.  Listening in on their conversations and hearing the other pilots being reprimanded had entertained them for hours. 

Just thinking about them left a gaping hole in his heart and he had to pause for a moment to ensure that his voice would remain firm and strong before he continued speaking.

“I can pilot leviships as well.”  He added, almost as an afterthought as he glanced around at the hull of the Crusade.  That certainly got Kio’s attention and the large man was suddenly filled with horrified thoughts of Dilandau stealing his ship out from under him.  “This one isn’t bad, but from what I remember from our last… visit, your heating system needed an overhaul.  The starboard levistone was sluggish.  Did you ever get that fixed?”  His tone was full of utter innocence though he grinned inwardly as he watched Kio bristle slightly.

“It was fixed.  We lost the starboard levistone at the end of the war and ended up replacing both of them as well as the heating system.” 

Dilandau studied their reactions to his claims, deciding that those skills would be enough to share seeing as how they would be of use to the crew.  He doubted that they cared about his skill in writing reports, mathematics and science.  Granted, they might find his extensive knowledge of demolitions and psychological profiling to be of use, but he’d rather they not realize how easily he could cause widespread destruction.  They also wouldn’t appreciate the fact that he had the layout to the palace of every powerful country memorized, just in case he needed to start another war.

“So, have you got a place for me to work?”  Though he did his best to sound casual, there was an edge to Dilandau’s voice.  He wasn’t used to being inactive for any length of time.  There had always been something to do on the Vionne, be it training, drills, writing reports, meetings with Folken or conferences with Emperor Dornkirk not to mention the actual battles themselves.  It was always when he had nothing to do that he tended to get into trouble, so the Strategos had always made it a point to have several tasks which could be delegated to him.  Not that he’d ever minded.  Relaxing had always meant laziness to him and it was a sentiment he’d passed on to his Dragon Slayers ruthlessly.  In hindsight, his restlessness was likely another “gift” from the Madoushi, as they were the sort to never plan on having their creation waste time being idle.

Gaddes thought for a moment, impressed with the teen’s list of abilities but having no doubt that he was fully capable in each field he’d named. 

“We’ll have you shadow the crew so you can get a feel for how we do things.  It will also let everyone get used to working with you.”  Dilandau nodded his head though inwardly he dreaded the lack of professionalism he was likely going to be exposed to.  He’d grown up in a world where efficiency and perfection were ruthlessly pursued and where any failure was met with swift and brutal punishment.  This was likely going to be an utter test of his patience and he was rather sure that no one was going to allow him to have enough vino to endure it.

“I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... we get some violence and some hints of something bigger and nastier lurking in the shadows.
> 
> Fun Note: Leithreas means Toilet in Gaelic. That's about the extent of my gaelic sadly until my nephew teaches me more. I just like the idea of Sir Toilet, the mustachio'd asshole.
> 
> I'm pondering writing a one shot about Allen and DIlandau first meeting, thoughts? Feelings?


	6. Family problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen finally has enough of Dilandau's games, Gaddes plays devil's advocate and Dilandau gets his hands dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne nor any of the characters. I'm not making money off this. Blah blah don't sue me.  
> So then, we have a warning for torture! Gasp, blood and violence in a fic involving Dilandau? Say it's not so! Also mention of past rape and some torture flashbacks. Yeah... they have issues to deal with.

                “C’mon Ort!  You gonna let a kid walk all over you?” 

                “Walk?  He’s bloody well dancing around him!”

                “Ort, don’t you dare lose!  I bet my next paycheck on you!”

Gaddes had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like what he saw when he walked into the hold of the Crusade.  The cheering had been loud enough to carry through the hull, drawing more than one confused look from passing villagers. 

                “It was only an hour…”  The second in command muttered to himself, fully aware that he was going to take the blame for whatever chaos he walked in on.  Allen was already in a foul mood what with their rather taciturn prisoner refusing to so much as give his name.  He doubted that finding his little brother in the middle of what sounded like a fight was going to do anything to improve his mood.

                The unmistakable sound of steel striking steel quickened the man’s step and he raced into the hold at a full sprint, nearly colliding with Reeden who happened to be closest to the door.  He’d been expecting a mob of crewmen to have risen up against the young Zaibach captain, eager to avenge their fallen comrades despite Allen’s earlier lecture.  What met his panicked gaze was honestly not what he’d anticipated at all.

                A quick glance showed that the crew had spread around the large space.  Most of them were drenched in sweat and sporting some rather nasty looking bruises.  Teo was in fact currently hovering over Kio, applying a rather strong smelling poultice to his temple.  The large man was utterly ignoring the impromptu medic in favour of watching what was happening in the center of the hold and cheering loudly, one large meaty fist pumping the air in excitement.

                Two figures circled each other warily, their bodies practically vibrating with pent up energy.  Ort’s stance was clearly defensive, his knives brandished in front of him, ready to ward off an attack.  The tips of his blades, normally steady as a surgeon’s scalpel wobbled slightly and his body was drenched in sweat.  Several impressive bruises were already darkening on his arms and a rather nasty one coloured his cheek where the skin had been split. 

In contrast, Dilandau still looked fresh and relaxed, the twin knives in his hands were held in a reversed style that Gaddes wasn’t familiar with, but judging by the lack of bruising on the youth, it was rather effective. 

Crimson eyes shone with amusement as he studied his opponent and the smug smile tugging at his lips warned everyone that the fight was already over, he was simply drawing it out for his own entertainment. 

“You drop your right hand when you attack, did you know that?”  Though he was clearly enjoying himself, there was a rather familiar tone to his voice as he instructed his opponent.  Gaddes had heard it hundreds of times whenever Allen ran them through drills.  Despite already knowing their kinship, it was still unnerving to hear and he wondered if either sibling was aware of their similarities.

“I’ll show you, you scrawny son of a bitch!”  Ort hissed, leaping forward to slash at the teenager who neatly sidestepped the attack, letting the blades pass by barely a hairs breadth from his skin.  Before his attacker could pivot around to compensate for the miss, Dilandau drove his pommel up into the underside of the larger man’s arm, striking the nerve cluster and causing his opponent to let out a rather loud yell of pain.

“How long has this been going on?”  Gaddes found himself asking Reeden when the man paused for breath in his cheering.

“About thirty minutes or so.”  The dark skinned crewman replied with a grin.  “The kid was working with Katz on the air circulation system, trying to figure out what that damn smell is whenever we take off.  Some of the guys were fooling around, getting ready to go after those damn bandits the instant the Boss gave the go ahead.  Anyway, the kid made some snarky comment about their form being utter shit and well… next thing we know, he’s challenged us to one on one combat, our choice of weapons.  Who could resist?”  Gaddes could almost feel the impending headache coming his way and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his two fingers and sighed.

“So you guys armed him?”  Reeden opened his mouth to defend himself, then thought for a moment and glanced over at the ongoing fight.

“Yeah… that might not have been our smartest move.”  He agreed somewhat reluctantly.  “But he hasn’t seriously hurt anyone.  I figure, this is sort of a teambuilding thing.” 

“How hasn’t he sent anyone to the medics?”  Gaddes couldn’t’ take his eyes off of the fight.  The only person he’d ever seen move with that lethal and economical grace was Allen himself.  It was a far cry from the wild and manic aggression the kid had shown at the end of the war but Gaddes knew that that crazed bloodlust likely lurked all too close to the surface for this to be a good idea.  Still, it was amazing to watch now that he wasn’t running for his damn life and could appreciate it.

“We established some rules for the fights.”  Reeden explained somewhat excitedly.  “Flats of blades only, no debilitating attacks… which is good because he caught Pyle with some crazy move that should have broken his arm in a few places.  He’s gonna be sore tomorrow, just so you know.”  Nodding his head, he barely heard his friend as he focussed on the flowing movements of the crew’s newest member.  To think that the kid was holding back… it really made him want to join in the fight himself and see how he’d do against the pride of the Zaibach Empire.  “He’s fought us one after another without even a break for water.  I hate to admit it, but I’m impressed… the kid isn’t human.”

“Don’t let him or the Boss hear you say that.”  Gaddes winced at Reeden’s statement, finding that it likely hit a little too close to the truth for comfort.  “If they do, I doubt either would take it well.”  Still, he had to admit that the crewman was right.  The kid was barely even breathing hard let alone sweating.  This might as well be a walk through a park to him.  Maybe challenging him wouldn’t be the best idea he could have.

“I really should break this up.”  He murmured more to himself than Reeden only to have Kio lean over and give him a playful punch to the shoulder. 

“Let him blow off steam.  The kid might be acting calm about everything, but you’d have to be an idiot to think that he’s handling this well at all.  I’d rather he hand out some bruises than decide to set the village on fire.  Besides, it’s helping the crew out too.  No one wants to just sit here doing nothing while we wait for the prisoner to finally give us some information.  Most of the guys just want to head down to where they’ve got the bastard and beat some answers out of him.”

Gaddes nodded his head at Kio’s words though privately he wasn’t so sure that getting their blood up was really the best way to distract them.

His thoughts were interrupted by the heavy sound of Ort’s body hitting the deck floor rather solidly, followed by a low groan.  The kid had managed to throw the man over his shoulder, using the blade of his knife as a pivot point.  Knowing he wasn’t the only one to wince at seeing that, Gaddes had to marvel at the youth’s control.  He could have easily slit Ort’s throat and they both knew it.

“I give… you win.”  He ground out from where he lay on the floor; clearly loathe to move as he struggled to regain his breath.

“Not bad.”  Dilandau admitted as he removed the blade and stood up, offering his downed opponent a hand up.  For a moment, Gaddes thought he was going to slap it away, but the bald knife fighter finally gave a defeated chuckle and grasped the offered hand, rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet.

“That was an impressive trick, care to teach it to me?”  There was no resentment in Ort’s voice.  Dilandau had managed to find the one thing he was most passionate about and beaten him at it.  Rather than grumble, the man was eager to expand his skillset, and it seemed that he wasn’t the only one eager to learn.

“So long as you show me that cross block you did.   I’ve never seen it before.”  Those crimson eyes flared for a moment, drinking in every bit of information he’d learned from the spar.  _You can always tell the measure of a man by crossing blades with him._ One of his old masters had once taught him and it was something which Dilandau held to be true in his experience.    The men around him were somewhat skilled but woefully undisciplined.  His Dragon Slayers could have torn through their ranks with little effort, as demonstrated in past battles.  Without Allen, these men were nothing, which is likely why they’d all been cast out to live in that cesspool fort Castilo.  Honestly, he’d done them a favour by burning it to the ground though he doubted they’d see it that way.  Some people were so attached to things.  It’s not like anyone saw him gnashing his teeth over the destruction of the Vionne.

Noticing Gaddes on the edge of the still cheering crowd, Dilandau flashed him a grin of pure challenge, the sort that had always gotten under Folken’s skin and pointed his blade at the second in command.

“Fanelian, care to test your skill?”  He could see the desire to fight in the man’s dark eyes as well as a certain amount of trepidation.  It was a look he’d seen many times before from superiors who’d had to deal with him.  They all recognized the superior warrior and didn’t want to risk losing face in front of their men.  He’d back down the way most of them did, hiding behind title and bluster.  It was something Dilandau had always looked at with utter contempt.

He’d never backed down from a battle in his life no matter how badly the odds were stacked against him.  Challenges had to be met, defeat was unacceptable.  It had been drilled into him as some of his first memories and it drove him to push himself far beyond what most warriors would ever dare.  This standard had been applied to his Dragon Slayers and while he was stuck with this crew, it would damn well apply to them as well.

“Half Fanelian.”  Gaddes replied after a long moment of silence.  He’d watched the fire in the youths eyes shift subtly from eager battle lust to scorn and knew that his every action was being judged.  What he also knew was that he was outclassed judging by what he’d seen.  If the kid had torn his way through the crew without even being winded, there was little he would be able to do to defeat him, but that wasn’t the point here was it?  The kid was testing him, seeing if he was willing to step up despite the odds.  Well, he could play that game with the best of them, and while he might go down, he’d make sure to give the kid a few bruises to remember him by. 

“Half Astorian, both countries which took down Zaibach.”  He added with a challenging grin of his own while executing a playful bow.  “I accept your challenge.  Name your weapon.”

“Astorian rules.”  The albino grinned.  There was just enough of an edge to the look to warn that the barb had struck deeply.  “You choose the weapon.  It’s so much more satisfying to defeat you at your own game.”

“I see being a girl hasn’t done anything for your arrogance.”  Gaddes shot back neatly, earning himself more than a few nervous looks from the rest of the crew who were currently backing away.  Provoking someone of dubious sanity likely wasn’t the soundest of strategies, but he’d seen the kid fight on several occasions and knew that his greatest weakness was a serious lack of impulse control.  This was even more evident when he was upset about something and he’d rather deal with a Dilandau who hit harder than one who was setting up sneaky moves and strategies during the fight.  The kid didn’t fight fair, so why should he?  “No weapons.”  He stated confidently.  “We settle this bare knuckled… unless you’re worried about me messing up your pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty?  Hmph, I knew you were having too much fun watching me bathe.”  The kid shot back neatly though Gaddes could tell that he was getting angry.

“Er… you sure about this?”  Reeden murmured softly.  “Didn’t he bite a guy’s throat out last night?”

“It’s not his teeth I’m worried about.”  Gaddes replied as he stepped forward, hoping he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his possibly rather short life.  The crowd of men parted all too eagerly and he did his best to pretend not to hear just how many of them were now betting against him.  Traitors the lot of them.

Dilandau stood in the center of the impromptu ring looking utterly cool and relaxed.  The brat even took a moment to stretch playfully, arching his back far beyond what should ever be considered normal.  _Flexibility of youth my ass,_ Gaddes grumbled to himself as he watched.  _The little shit is showing off._

“No breaking bones or gouging eyes.”  Gaddes stated as he stepped into the youths range.  “And no going for the groin.”  Dilandau smirked at him once again, allowing his gaze to drop rather pointedly to the area in question. 

“Don’t worry, it’s too small a target to be worth my while.”  He said just loud enough for the men to hear, earning himself several laughs from crew who clearly forgot that it was Gaddes who sorted out their pay every month.  A few people were going to find themselves short on drinking money in two weeks’ time.

The two opponents began to circle each other carefully, analyzing every movement with narrowed eyes.  Their bodies were relaxed and ready to burst into motions, hands held up in front of them.  Gaddes held his hands higher, fists tightly closed and ready to lash out with rock hard punches.  Dilandau held his lower, the hands half open and ready to respond to whatever the older man threw at him. 

It was surprising to Gaddes that the kid wasn’t taking an immediately offensive stance.  Everything he’d ever seen from the albino’s fighting techniques seemed to involve attacking with quick and blinding fury.  This was unexpected and perhaps a tad worrisome.  Hopefully this was just an attempt to gain himself a bit of a rest in between bouts, but judging by the crafty looking glint to the teenagers eyes, he was simply waiting for Gaddes to commit himself to an attack.

                The edge of the kid’s lips tugged up into a smile at the darker man’s discomfiture and Gaddes knew without a doubt that he was doing this on purpose to throw him off.   Still, weight was on his side as well as experience in bare knuckled brawling.  He couldn’t imagine that an elite Zaibach officer would have gotten into too many fist fights.  Granted, that was likely what the rest of the crew had thought with their own chosen weapons, and the kid had outright stated that he’d been trained in unarmed combat…

                “Waiting for an invitation old man?”  Dilandau taunted, drawing more good natured laughter from the crew.  “Surely you’re not scared?” 

                “I’m just not stupid.  You’re up to something.”  Gaddes shot back, studying the kid surreptitiously for any sign of weakness that he could use to his advantage.  The kid’s balance was perfect and his weight was centered, the only thing he could think of were those lowered hands just begging him to attack.

                “You’re the one who wanted a fistfight.  So throw a damn punch already before I get bored.”  Clearly he hadn’t managed to upset the kid enough to get reckless and honestly, he really didn’t want to aim for the real chinks in the kids armour.  There were a lot of them, but they would likely destroy any hope of a truce between them. 

                Well fine, he could handle the little albino runt.  Sure he’ll take a few licks, but he was bigger and stronger than some teenager…

                At least that’s what he’d thought moments before finding himself flattened face first on the floor with the world spinning around him.  What the hell had just happened?  He vaguely remembered throwing a punch, and seeing those pale hands snap into action.  His wrist ached a little, so did the back of his neck but his brain still hadn’t caught up to what had actually thrown him.

                Rolling to his feet quickly, Gaddes brought his guard up and glared at the kid who had backed away in order to give him room to stand.  The men were cheering, the brat was smirking and he could feel his cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

                “Maybe you should have suggested cards?  That seems more your speed old man.”  Dilandau taunted again, obviously in the mood to play with his opponent.

                That was all the goading Gaddes needed and he charged in, determined to wipe the smile off that pretty face.  Unfortunately, Dilandau was ready for him and simply pivoted out of the way.  A slender hand deftly snagged his and an arm shot out beneath Gaddes’ armpit.  Once again he found himself experiencing the joys of flying without the aid of levistones.  Slamming into the floor several feet away, he nearly hit a few of the men not quick enough to get out of the way. 

                “Hey, Gaddes, maybe you should call it quits.  This isn’t some bar brawl here…”  Teo leaned forward to whisper to him while offering him a hand up.  Snarling silently, the second in command batted the hand away and turned to face his opponent once again. 

                “Swords… I should have picked swords…”  He muttered to himself.  “Van kicked his ass with a sword… I could take him…”

                “Yeah… bad idea there.”  Teo murmured in a voice quiet enough that Gaddes was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. 

                “Shut up Teo.  Hey Kid, you gonna stand still and let me punch you like a man?”

                “Hmmm, let me think on that one.  No.  I’m going to continue to dance around and kick your ass in front of your men.”  Well this wasn’t going to plan at all.  The kid was clearly above the level of someone like him, but what had Allen said once?  The best swordsman in the world doesn’t fear the second best, he fears the worst.  Why?  Because amateurs did stupid shit that you simply couldn’t anticipate.  They would use moves and strategies that defied all common sense and were impossible to anticipate.   Well he could be that idiot if it wiped the smirk off that brats face!

                Without pausing to think about how badly this could backfire on him, Gaddes yelled out a bellowing challenge and charged the kid.  He had a moment of utter satisfaction in seeing those crimson eyes widen in utter shock at the frankly moronic attack. 

                Dilandau had honestly expected better from the man and felt disappointment well up inside him at the thought that Gaddes had given up so quickly.  Shifting out on an angle, he crouched down as the man barrelled past him and struck out at the nerves on the legs, intending to make his opponent pay for such a stupid attack, only to yelp in shock as Gaddes suddenly dropped to the floor.

                At first it looked as if the larger man had somehow tripped, but his body spread out, legs kicking out wildly as he rolled into the shocked teenager.  Dilandau received a solid knee to the ribs while a flailing foot caught him on the side of the head, sending him sprawling backwards.

                The crew went wild at the move and Gaddes felt a momentary flush of pride at having downed the arrogant brat.  This had likely been the first decent hit scored on the kid since the fights had begun and that was worth the bit of pride sacrificed to do it.

                Rather than sit back and bask in his momentary glory, he lunged at the stunned kid, intending to pin him to the floor and hold him there until he surrendered.  Dilandau of course had other plans and was already rolling backwards onto his feet, giving himself a bit of distance while he tried to shake his vision clear.

                This time, the look he shot the second in command had a glimmer of respect behind it, as well as the silent warning that he wouldn’t fall for a trick like that again.

                “WHAT IN JETURE’S NAME IS GOING ON HERE?”  Allen’s yell somehow carried over the din of the cheering voices and actually reverberated on the metal of the hull.  Everyone in the room froze, including the two combatants.  Dilandau immediately jumped to attention before catching himself and adopting an insolent pose and sneering in the knight’s direction.  Gaddes simply stiffened and ducked his head, aware that he’d been caught doing something bad.

                The Knight of Caeli stalked into the room, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword and the glare in his icy blue eyes caused the crew to quickly scatter out of his way, no one daring to make eye contact with the man.

                “I could hear the noise all the way to town square!”  He snapped angrily.  “The villagers thought that we were having another attack!”  His glare located Gaddes and Dilandau in the center of the rapidly dwindling circle, both of them looking ruffled and obviously guilty.  “Then what do I find?  My men fighting each other like common brigands?”

                “It was a cultural exchange.”  Dilandau drawled lazily, hardly fazed by his siblings anger.  He’d spent two years prodding at the ever moody Folken after all and Allen had nothing on that man.  “I feel very enlightened now.  Is lunch ready?  I’m starving.”  His voice brightened with almost childish enthusiasm as he walked towards the blonde knight without a care in the world.  “There’d better be vino or someone is going to bleed.  I’m sick of drinking piss.” 

                Everyone stared in shock at the open insolence the teenager was displaying, their eyes fixed on Allen, waiting to see what he’d do.

                “Dilandau.”  Allen’s voice was soft but there was very audible steel beneath it.  Curious, the teenager paused in mid step, glancing at the rather vexed knight with idle curiosity.  “You agreed to certain terms in working with us.  One of those is that you will obey myself and Gaddes as your superiors and not fight with the crew.”

                “Technically, that’s two things.”

                “Were you fighting?”  The knight wasn’t rising to the obvious bait.

                “Relax Schezar, we were just sparring.  No one’s hurt.  We even had rules and your medic on hand.”  Dilandau waved a hand idly in the direction of Teo who offered a faint smile and tentative hand wave. 

                “I don’t want you fighting.”  Allen pressed, earning himself a rather coldly appraising look from his silver sibling.

                “I want to fight.”  Dilandau stated in even tones as if explaining that the sky was blue and fire was hot.  “I need to fight.  It’s who and what I am.”

                “It doesn’t have to be…”  The tall blonde’s reasonable tones earned him nothing but an icy sneer from Dilandau as the young soldier stepped forward into Allen’s personal space and glared at him nose to nose.

                “Would you prefer if I simply sat in my rooms and practiced my embroidery or read a book?”  There was a poisonous sweetness to his voice that made Gaddes take a step forward, suddenly less than sure about his leader’s continued safety.  “I’m not Celena.”  Dilandau hissed softly, his voice loud in the silence of the room.  “Stop thinking about me like that.  I fight.  I drink, I fuck and I kill.  I do all of those things rather well and I don’t intend to stop because it offends your tender sensibilities.”

                Somehow Allen’s face remained impassive, but Gaddes could see the tightening of his shoulders as the man did his best not to wince at the callous words.

                “If you can’t handle that Schezar then I’ll head out there on my own without your help.  You had your shot with Celena and you lost her.  Again.  It’s my turn no-”  The sharp crack of a hand striking a cheek was deafening and not a single person dared to move.

                Allen stood there staring at his upraised hand, looking just as surprised as Dilandau who clutched at his rapidly reddening cheek.  Gaddes didn’t dare take another step, knowing that any movement would shatter this terrible stillness in ways he didn’t want to think about.  All he could do was stare at Allen, watching the conflict openly written across his handsome features.  He wanted to stammer out an apology for striking his sibling, wanted to treat the boy as he would a young girl rather than an insolent soldier. 

                Don’t do it boss!  Gaddes thought as hard as he could.  That would be the worst thing to do with someone like Dilandau.  He’d see it as weakness in leadership and take it as a personal insult to himself at the same time.  Stand by your actions, remind him of his place.  It’s not like the slap had actually hurt the kid.

                “You were told to shadow Katz today and learn the ships systems.”  Allen finally managed to grind out, his hand slowly lowering though the fingers curled up tightly into a fist.  “Spar on your spare time though I will expect you to carry yourself with the same level of dignity I would expect from someone of your noble lineage.  You do our mother wrong by rolling around on the ground like some grubby ruffian.”

                “My mother was a bunch of test tubes and wires.  I doubt she cares.”  There was another sound of a hand striking a face as Allen’s fist lashed out and caught Dilandau on the opposite side of his cheek.  Surprisingly, the kid didn’t block the blow though he let his head roll with the impact in such a way that spoke of past experience with such attacks.

                “Your mother was Encia Schezar and you will not ever mock her.”  Allen’s voice was a low warning growl and he looked more than ready to back up his words with another attack. 

                Instead of spewing out the expected vitriol laden insults, Dilandau simply stared at Allen with slightly unfocussed eyes, seeing something different than the world around him.  The youth radiated a mild confusion for a moment, having apparently forgotten about the two strikes to his precious face.

                “Encia…”  He breathed out the name, tasting the shape of the words as if they held some mystical property.  “The grave.”  Crimson eyes focussed on Allen as if he somehow held answers to the holes in his mind.  “You were showing me her grave?”  The crew had no idea what he was referring to, but Allen did, remembering that horrible day when he’d learned of his sister’s terrible fate, and the brother he’d never knew existed.

                “She died shortly after you were taken… in her grief she simply faded away… there was nothing I could do.”  The crew all bowed their heads in respect to the woman they’d never met.  It was a rare thing for the knight to speak of his parents or his younger years.  To him, those memories were filled with a deep sadness and shame, the first of many failures in his life. 

                “And I had a father?”  Dilandau sounded so young suddenly, so vulnerable that Allen’s hard expression softened and he had to fight the urge to pull the youth into his arms and comfort him.

                “Leon Schezar… he was…”  Allen swallowed for a moment, still somewhat torn on his memories of the man.  “He was a brilliant explorer… A man named Isaac murdered him.”

                “Isaac?”  Crimson eyes narrowed, visions of some nebulous quest for revenge taking root.

                “Your precious Emperor Dornkirk himself.”  Allen spat out the name and Dilandau staggered back as if struck a third time, his eyes wide.  “Zaibach had our father killed, then they came and stole you from us, leaving our mother to die of grief.” 

                The young captain took another step back, shaking his head in denial, unable to quite absorb what he was hearing.  This was more information than the crew had ever heard about their leader though none of them dared to speak and interfere with the heartbreaking scene in front of them.

                “You’re lying.  The Zaibach Empire might be harsh…but… this doesn’t make sense.”

                “What part?  That your Emperor was an obsessed madman capable of destroying a family in the name of some rivalry?  That he would be willing to steal their child and submit them to godawful tortures to achieve his own ends?   He targeted you because of our father Dilandau.  He gave you to those monsters out of spite just as much as he did out of his desire for human experimentation.”

                Dilandau shook his head again, not even sure why this revelation upset him so badly.  He’d known that he’d been taken, that he’d suffered every day of his young life under the care of the Madoushi.  It had always left him with a deep fear of the cloaked sorcerers, but for some reason knowing that he’d had a family, people who’d loved and grieved for his loss struck some strange chord inside him.   No… not him.  No one had grieved for him or ever would.  It had been Celena they wanted back, Celena the knight fought for. 

                _This life was only temporary_.  The youth reminded himself.  It was simply Fate kicking him in the teeth one more time and punishing him for his unnatural existence.  Once it was over and the brigands defeated, Allen would begin to seek out a way to bring her back, exiling him once again to oblivion.  Pain was nothing.  Pain let you know that you were alive and this pain was temporary.  He had to keep believing that or he’d go mad.

                Still, it was one thing to know that his life had simply been bad luck, chosen at random to suffer this agony.  It was quite another to learn that he’d been nothing more than a pawn.  His pain and suffering decided simply to torture the ghost of a fallen adversary.  In a way, it was almost funny.  Guimel would have appreciated the sick humour behind it.  He’d always enjoyed a twisted joke.

                Grief welled up inside him and once again he could hear the screams echoing in his ears as one after another his precious Slayers died.  Now added to the din was the voice of a woman he couldn’t remember, calling out for a precious child who had no longer existed. 

                Drawing in a deep breath, Dilandau forced his face into a mask of utter neutrality.  There was no way he’d let these people see his torment and confusion.  He had no weakness; he was impervious to such pathetic things as grief and loneliness.  Turning way from Allen, Dilandau walked over to the control panel for the air circulation system and picked up his discarded tools.  Without any further comment, he began to work as cleaning the connectors, seeking solace from his pain in work.

                Silently, the men dispersed back to their original tasks.  Gaddes watched Katz cautiously approach Dilandau, unsure if it was safe to be anywhere near him.  When there was no explosion of violence, the larger man sat down without a comment and began to quietly explain something about the system.

                Seeing that peace would indeed reign, the second in command turned to look at Allen who was still staring at the miserable youth with an unreadable expression on his face.

                “That was harsh sir…”  He began cautiously, keeping his voice low.  “The kid’s arrogant as anything and needed to be taken down a few pegs… but that…”  Allen cut him off with a slight hand motion and gestured for Gaddes to follow him outside, out of earshot from the rest of the crew.  Sparing the rather dispirited kid one last look; he followed his friend, hoping to understand his strange motivations.

                “Boss?  Allen?”  It felt odd calling his friend by his given name, but the weight of the moment seemed to call for it.

                “He’s right.”  Allen looked up at the sky, studying the passing clouds for a long moment, conveniently avoiding looking Gaddes in the eyes.  “He’s not Celena and I can’t try to treat him as such.”

                “Okay… I can see that… but Boss, you just went and ripped his heart out in front of everyone.  I don’t think you could have done much more damage if you’d told him that it was his fault that his squad was slaughtered.”

                “It was and he knows it.  He’d disobeyed orders and attacked Van.”  Allen’s voice had that cold edge to it again and it made Gaddes shiver slightly as he realized just how deeply the loss of his sister had wounded him.  “I need him to listen to me and follow my orders.  Folken might have let him run wild but I can’t afford that.”

                “Boss, have you seen his wrists?  His ankles?  Folken didn’t let him run wild.  The kid has been forcibly restrained repeatedly for what looks like years.  Who knows what sick shit they did to him to screw him up as badly as he is?”

He took no satisfaction in seeing the knight wince but he felt that he had to say something.

“I can’t risk losing him Gaddes.  He’s all I have left.”

“If you pull crap like that with him, you’re going to lose him no matter what.  The kid’s suicidal.  You saw that last night and I’m pretty sure that he hasn’t suddenly come up with some new zest for life.  He needs something to believe in, something to fight for and you just tore everything out from under him.”  He didn’t know why he was fighting for Dilandau.  The kid was a certifiable psychopath who had murdered hundreds of decent people without batting an eye but seeing that crimson fire die in those eyes had felt utterly inherently wrong to him.  “All he’s living for right now is revenge and we both know that’s not healthy, especially for him.  You saw how obsessed he got with Van and look how that ended up.  We can’t put him on that path again… not now.” 

He didn’t bother to point out that it had only been sheer luck and amazing timing that had spared Celena’s life during the Destiny war.  The chances of that happening again were infinitesimal. 

Allen took a deep breath and Gaddes knew that he was honestly listening to his words, weighing them against his own thoughts.  While the man might act rashly where his precious sister was concerned, on the whole he was a calm and competent leader.  This whole situation was a terrible strain on all of them.

“How do I keep him under control then?”  Blue eyes stared at Gaddes, pleading for some insight into the mind of his sibling. 

“Talk to him?  Listen to him as a person and not as a shadow of your sister.”  The darker man suggested tentatively.  “That’s what drew you guys together in the first place right?  You took the time to talk to him when no one else would?  Well, he’s all alone now and he has no one to turn to. 

Glancing back at the ship, Gaddes took a deep breath. 

“Let him feel useful, like he’s doing something.  The kid’s a soldier, a well decorated one at that.  He needs to feel like he matters.  You also need to remember though, he’s still a teenager.  Jeture help us.  He’s going to be an arrogant annoying little shit for no other reason than he can be. 

“Look at it this way.  If he really has no memories of when he was Celena, then twenty four hours ago everything he knew ended.  He lost a war, anyone he actually knew is likely dead.  Then he wakes up, finds out that he was raped back into existence and that he isn’t who he thought he was.”  Allen looked as if he’d been punched in the face but Gaddes continued on, hating himself a little inside but knowing that it needed to be said.

“Allen… What that man did to Celana was horrifying enough that she turned back into Dilandau.  There is a very good chance that she might not want to come back.  He really might be all you have left of her.”    

“Do you think that I don’t know that?”  Allen’s voice was little more than a whisper.  “I spent all day screaming at the prisoner, trying to convince him to tell me anything.  The man won’t even give me his name.”

“No wonder you’re frustrated.”  Gaddes ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it up and wincing as he discovered a new bruise from the fight.  “Look… if you want I could work him over a little.  Hell, anyone on the crew would beat him half to death if you give the word.”

Allen clenched his fists again and grit his teeth in frustration.  It was obvious that he was tempted, sorely tempted to throw away all of the rules of Knighthood and torture the prisoner for information.

“I can’t allow it.”  He ground out, hating himself a little more with every word.  “I’m honour bound to keep anyone in my custody safe.  Unless he tries to escape, I can’t touch him.  All I can do is hold him until we transport him to Pallas for the King to question.”  There was no point in asking why they were still here in the village rather than en route to the capitol.  Once the prisoner was there then the issue of the bandits would be taken out of his hands.  King Aston would decide what to do and who would deal with them.  However if they happened to get the information before that happened then they were well within their rights to bring justice to the brutes.

“How about we _let_ the prisoner escape…”  Gaddes dropped that line of suggestion when he saw the dark look aimed his way.  Well, it was worth a shot.  “You could always let the kid talk to him.”  He finally murmured, aware that this would likely get shot down as well.  “He’s the injured party after all.”

“You know as well as I do that Dilandau will attack the prisoner.  Not to mention the fact that we can’t allow word to get out that he’s alive again.  We’d have to kill the prisoner after the interrogation and I can’t do that… not in cold blood.”

“Fine, but you’re running out of time.  Neither the crew nor the Kid are going to wait much longer to be let off their leashes.  Sooner or later they’re going to take matters into their own hands.”

 

**************************

 

 

That time ran out shortly after dinner when the crew had all begun to trickle out of the galley to pursue the various distractions offered by the town.  Most were heading towards the tavern though a few were joining together for a rowdy game of cards and drinking.

Gaddes and Allen were staring at a map of the nearbyforests, trying to work out the most likely place for the brigands to have hidden themselves and didn’t notice when Dilandau slipped away.  He’d been quiet and withdrawn since Allen’s verbal flaying and everyone had done their best to give him space rather than risk raising his ire.

Sticking to the already lengthening shadows around the ship, the hood of his long jacket pulled up to cover the bright beacon of his hair, he slipped past the “guards” with practically no effort.  Pausing only to give them a look of utter disgust, especially when his sensitive nose detected the stink of cheap ale drifting out from them, the young captain headed towards the village jail.

It was a small building that clearly rarely saw much use beyond holding the occasional drunk until they sobered up.  No one even patrolled the outside perimeter though as he studied the building, he noticed a single shadow pass behind the backlit window.  Drawing closer, still sticking to the darkness, he slipped into the lee of the building and listened intently.  Just his luck, he’d chosen the side of the building that some moron had chosen to attach a privy to and the stink assaulted his nose almost immediately, making him want to gag.  Ugh, it was like standing next to a doppleganger.  Still, the little building was sturdy and actually appeared to be in a better state of repair than the jail itself, making Dilandau truly worry about the priorities of this village.

Being a rather lackluster village struggling to rebuild, the building was little more than a ramshackle wooden shack that could be easily knocked over if a guymelef stepped too heavily near it.  Granted, that could be said for most of the buildings save for the mayor’s house, town hall and a handful of personal homes.  It was child’s play to listen through the thin walls and the aging wood carried sound wonderfully.  From his location he could easily spy for hours without being noticed… so long as no one needed to go to the bathroom. 

Anyone who had ever met the young Zaibach captain would never think that he was capable of anything as subtle and stealthy as simple spying, but there had been a reason his squad had been chosen to test out the new stealth cloaks.  While nothing stirred his blood quite like the joy of wholesale slaughter, Dilandau understood the value of subtlety in various situations.  He’d led dozens of raids which had never been recorded by their enemies until the war had been well and truly underway.  It had entertained the Dragon Slayers to no end to hear panicked reports of missing villages and fortresses which had been wiped off the map without a single sound of alarm.  

Listening in on the crews many conversations he knew that there would be one man inside guarding the prisoner at all times and two auxiliary guards on duty as well.  They were conveniently patrolling the village borders with a small local militia though judging by what he’d seen so far, the most they would likely defeat would be an ornery raccoon.   What with Allen being distracted and his undisciplined crew growing drunker by the second, he would have ample time to accomplish his goals and be gone before anyone noticed.

Whoever had designed the building truly needed to be dragged out onto the street and stepped on by a melef because honestly, what sort of moron puts a bloody window on a jail then neglects to add bars?   Worse, there were several of the things, providing what was most likely a lovely abundance of light, a nice view of the street and absolutely no security whatsoever.  Add in the lights illuminating the insides in startling detail and Dilandau barely had to exert any effort at all to get a decent look at the layout.

The guard sat behind a desk in the right hand corner filling out reports and looking bored, though something kept attracting his attention on the far wall just out of Dilandau’s line of sight.  The cells themselves were in full view of the main room and were the simple floor to ceiling bar variety and were occupied by only one person who sat on a bunk eating a bowl of soup.

Rage stirred inside the teenager as he looked at the man who’d taken part in the attack on him.  How dare the man be sitting there comfortably eating!  He should be hanging in chains being whipped or branded until he was willing to blubber out the most intimate details of his miserable life.

Smiling, he gently stroked a fingertip over the screwdriver he’d palmed from one of the toolboxes.  It wasn’t nearly as fun as a knife, but he’d make due.  He’d worked with far less in the past and been successful.

So far, all he could see as being a problem was getting the keys off of the guard.  Lock picking had never been his strong suit to put it mildly and even if he’d been skilled at it, there hadn’t been any tools he could have snuck away without anyone noticing.  That left taking them off the guard himself.  A much more fun prospect, but likely to attract attention.

As he was pondering these thoughts, the guard picked up a book from his desk and stood up, taking a moment to adjust his belt as his rather ample belly settled over it.  Sparing a quick glance at the prisoner, making sure he wasn’t up to anything the man then headed for the door.

Stunned at his sudden flush of good luck, Dilandau quickly slipped into the privy, wrinkling his nose at the stink and promising himself that he wouldn’t be in here any longer than necessary.  Thankfully, the guard made no effort to conceal the sound of his approaching footsteps and jangling of keys.  It was easy to time his attack with the opening of the door.  The butt of the screwdriver caught the man just above the temple, knocking him out cold instantly and Dilandau caught him before his heavy body hit the ground.

The weight on the man was impressive but he quickly dragged himinside and closed the door to prevent any passerby’s from seeing what was going on.  By feel alone he searched for the keyring and grinned in triumph when he found them.  There were only three keys present on the heavy ring, two of which were too small for cell doors. 

Honestly, the technology in this country was pathetic.  In Zaibach they had electronic locks on nearly every door, rendering keys obsolete, though woe to the fool who couldn’t remember how to get into their rooms.  Granted, they also had plumbing, heated water, gas lighting… the list went on and on.  He was frankly surprised that this backwater part of the world even understood the miracle of the wheel.

Exiting the foul smelling building, he closed the door and took a moment to jam a rock into the hinge of the door to prevent it from being opened.  It was basic, but should slow down the guard should he wake up before Dilandau was done.

After that, it was simply a matter of striding into the building and drawing the window blinds down.  This earned him a curious grunt from the cell as the prisoner noticed the cloaked figure and the lack of guard.

“Here to get me out?”  Saying nothing, Dilandau approached the cell and inserted the key into the lock.  The mechanism had at least been recently oiled and the key turned easily with almost no noise.  “About time!  I’m sick of having that blonde bastard glaring at me for hours.  Useless twat.”

The man was taller than he was and much heavier boned, though he hadn’t been eating well lately and had the appearance of a man who’d lost weight much too quickly.  His face was unshaven, the beard greasy and likely lice ridden much as his hair was.  From what he could tell, beneath the filth the man’s coloring was a nondescript brown for his hair and eyes.  His skin had been burned and peeled several times and showed evidence of prolonged exposure to the elements without proper gear.

What gear he’d had was piled up in a corner on a shelf and it showed an assorted mashup of various countries, likely scavenged from the many battlefields left from the war.  A deserter most likely.  This man had chosen to run rather than risk his life for a cause and was now living off the leavings of the dead.  There were few things Dilandau loathed as much as cowards and it made everything so much sweeter. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here before the guard comes bac-”  Dilandau’s fist caught him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and preventing him from drawing in the breath necessary to properly scream when the blade of the screwdriver was driven into his kneecap.  A strong hand grabbed the man’s throat as the albino swept his remaining leg out from under him and drove him into the ground hard enough to jog his brain in his skull rather soundly.

Before he could react, Dilandau placed one knee on the man’s right hand and pulled the makeshift weapon out of its fleshy sheath and placed it on the bandit’s greasy cheek just below his eye. 

“I know, I know.”  He sighed in a rather bored voice.  “I’m supposed to ask you questions first, then hurt you when you don’t answer, but that’s no fun.  So here’s what we’re going to do.”  The man held himself perfectly still, doing his best to swallow his screams while still struggling to draw in breath.  “I’m going to hurt you for a while.  That’s it.  No questions, no answers.  Just me seeing what fun things I can do with this little toy here.  Do you have a favourite eye?  Neither of them look overly interesting, so it’s rather hard for me to tell.”

“W-who… who are you?”  The brigand blubbered, catching sight of the maddened crimson eyes staring at him from the shadows of the hood.  A childish cackle of vicious glee was his answer as Dilandau pulled his hood back, far enough for the man to see his beautiful face and the terrible scar which marred it.

The prisoners eyes widened in horrified recognition, first at the sound of that unforgettable blood chilling laughter then at the sight of a face which was all too familiar to him.

“C…Captain Albatou!?”  He sputtered, struggling suddenly and trying to crawl away only to whimper in pain as Dilandau pressed down with his knee.

“Shhh, no names, you don’t get to call me by name.  You and your friends made me very unhappy last night.  You woke me up when I was having such a nice sleep.”  The cruel playful voice was almost as terrifying as the cackling laughter and the man stared in terror realising that he was seeing his death reflected in those blood red eyes.

“We… we didn’t know you were here!  You went missing after the war… Please don’t kill me!”

“Oh I won’t kill you.”  The albino purred, the look in his face offering no reassurance.  “What I am going to do though is make you beg for death with every breath you take for the rest of your life.  Now shhh, this is going to hurt.”  Placing his hand over the man’s mouth, he slid the screwdriver upwards, giggling softly as the flat blade of the tool closed the distance between cheek and eye.  The man screamed against his hand, frantically babbling unintelligible sounds as tears fell freely from his eyes.

With an irritated sigh, Dilandau pulled his hand away and glared at the prisoner in annoyance.

“Am I going to have to take your tongue out first?  I hate doing that, there’s always the risk of you choking on your blood.  Honestly, the eyes are much better to start with.”

“Please!!! I’ll tell you anything you need to know!  Don’t blind me!”

“Why?  You’re just some annoying pissant who woke me up.  Why should I care what you know?  Really, it’s going to be much more fun for me to cut you into pieces.”

“There’s a group of us!  Twenty men.  We’re Zaibach!  We’re still fighting the war.  There’s pockets of us all over just waiting for the right time.  We could use you!  With you we could strike back at the bastards who defeated our beloved empire!”  Dilandau let his disgust twist the features of his face and dragged the blade down the man’s cheek and splitting the flesh.  He could feel the prisoner tense beneath him but the man didn’t dare fight back.  All the brigand cared about was the fact that the weapon was slowly moving away from his eyes.  Scars he could live with, blindness would make him useless. 

“I was Captain of the Dragon Slayers, why should I throw in my lot with a bunch of pathetic deserters?  You have nothing I want.”

“We have guymelefs!”  The man blurted.  “Five of them!  Well… two in working condition, but we’re fixing the others!  Good Zaibach melefs, not the antique crap around here.”  This actually caught the captain’s attention and the screwdriver paused in its travels, letting bright crimson blood begin to pool around it.

“Why didn’t you use them in the attack?”

“They’d identify us as Zaibach and we were told to look like brigands.  We were supposed to grab some stupid slut.  The blonde’s sister.  Make the big hero pay for his part in the war!”  The interest vanished from the youths face and the cutting resumed, working its way back up the man’s cheek.

“Kidnapping?  That’s work for gekko’s.  Why would I want to sully my hands with that?  You should have stuck with the melefs.  Do they have flame capabilities?  I really want this village to burn.”

“One does!!!”  Blood was pooling in the man’s left eye, darkening his vision in a promise of things to come.  “The others were too damaged to properly heat the spray.”  A disinterested sound urged the man to continue to babble.

“The girl’s important though!  Our informant offered us a reward to bring her to them!  Someone wants her bad!  They’re telling everyone, but with you, we can get her first!  They promised us melefs, weapons and enough coin to finance ourselves to keep fighting behind the lines!”  Crimson eyes narrowed skeptically.  He highly doubted that this foul wretch was at all interested in continuing the war effort.  Most likely they were only promised coin, enough to live fat spoiled lives filled with whores and drink.

“Anyone could offer that.  Why believe them?  The Empire’s fallen, there’s nothing left for them to bargain with.”  It sickened him to say that out loud, like he was accepting the inevitable.

“He had gold!  Said he represented the Madoushi as well as some generals who survived and plan to rebuild in secret!  The Emperor might have fallen but we haven’t!”  Blood drained from Dilandau’s face and the cutting stopped as he froze in terror.  The Madoushi wanted him back?  Wanted Celena? 

Images of needles filled his mind’s eye.  A cold metal table, so many cutting knives and tubes going into his body.  Restraints cutting into his skin as he screamed and struggled to get away, begging for his Slayers to come for him, knowing they never would again…A dark room with too bright lights shining on him.  Then the pain, so much pain and terror.  Darkness swirled behind his eyes, threatening to pull him into the nightmare, but he forced it down with his usual stubborn will. 

He wanted to vomit, to scramble away from this man and his horrible words, but he needed to know one more thing.

“Where?”  His smile showed too many teeth and anyone who knew him would have scrambled away in terror, but the deserter only saw a chance at escape and was all too eager to grasp at this salvation.

“Twenty five miles due north of the village, there’s a small mountain.  It’s all rough terrain and nasty swamp around it so the locals don’t go there.  We found some caves big enough to hide in.  The hunting is crap, but we steal enough to get by.  We even got horses for travelling but we tied them up far enough away that it looked like we got there on foot.” 

“The area is trapped?”

“Nah, can’t risk any of the locals stumbling onto anything.  We have guards though around the cave mouth.  Mostly we stay hidden.  These stupid Astorian’s didn’t even know we were here till we attacked.”

“The other groups, do they know you found the girl?  Have you reported it to the Madoushi?  I have no intention of fighting off vultures trying to take my prize.  When we grab her, I want to be the one to hand her over to them.”

“We haven’t told anyone.  We’d be stupid to report a capture if we didn’t have her and that blond bastard is a slippery one… but you already know that.  We’ll let you have the kill if you want, he’s all yours sir.” 

Chuckling in amusement, the young captain thought for a moment on the offer.  A guimelef, a couple of spares for parts, enough money to keep him comfortable and Schezar’s head on top of it all.  All he had to do was hand himself over to the sorcerers so they could pull him apart again.  What would they turn him into this time?  What pieces of his life, of his mind would they cut away to make their perfect soldier?

Not even looking at the man, he slid one hand over the deserters vile mouth to silence any sounds he might make as the other pressed the screwdrivers blade into his eye deeply enough to pierce the brain.  The prisoner twisted and jerked as death claimed him, then fell still.

“I don’t bargain with deserters.”  He murmured softly and stood up, idly wiping the weapon clean on the man’s shirt.  Walking over to the pile of discarded uniform, he found the dead man’s sword and took a moment to examine the blade.  It was Zaibach at least, though definitely not the quality he was used to.  Still, it was serviceable.  There was also a slender knife which quickly found its way to the back of Dilandau’s right boot.  A much larger knife was ignored utterly.  One glance warned that its balance was off due to a slight warping in the blade.

The armour was similarly ignored.  It hadn’t been properly cared for and would more likely give him a rash than protect him from an attack.   Besides, wearing armour and trekking through a swamp was one of the more stupid things one could do over the course of a person’s life.  He’d stick with the clothes the crusade crew had kindly provided.

Something moved behind him by the door.  Spinning around and drawing his sword in the same fluid motion, he slashed out viciously.  Several strands of long golden hair floated down to the floor and bright blue eyes glared at him in horror having no doubt seen the corpse on the floor.

“Dilandau… what have you done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence coming. Yay! If anyone is curious, Dilandau is fighting in an Aikijutsu style which I have been studying for 5 years and yeah, the moves he uses do send you flying and wondering WTF happened? Gaddes is sticking with a more general brawler style with no formal training other than guts and glory.


	7. Opening Salvo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels, fighting and fire! Allen and Dilandau manage to have a somewhat civilized conversation. Dilandau has crappy coping mechanisms. Gaddes offers advice and things blow up. It's a typical day for the Crusade crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. Don't sue me, I'm already broke and not making money off of this.  
> So, warnings for violence, mentions of past torture and past (unaware) incestuous relationship.
> 
> Also, if anyone could tell me why my tabs keep wandering away halfway through, that would be great. \^_^

Dilandau stood there, the tip of his sword never wavering as he glared down the length of the blade at Allen.

                “Schezar.”  There was venom dripping from the words, reminiscent of when they’d stood on opposite sides of the war.  Gaddes, standing behind the knight eyed the drawn blade warily before glancing down at the eerily still body lying on the floor in a slowly spreading pool of blood.

                “You killed him didn’t you?”  He found himself asking the all too obvious question and was rewarded by a faint sneer on the youth’s lovely face.

                “He was lucky that I was pressed for time.”  That all too familiar madness glittered in the depths of those crimson eyes and Gaddes had no doubt that the sword pointed at them wouldn’t hesitate to draw their blood should they make a single misstep. 

                “He was my prisoner Dilandau.”  Allen’s voice was low with tightly controlled anger, his eyes fixed on the silver youths, ignoring the weapon aimed at his face.  “You murdered a man in cold blood.”

                “He was a deserter.”  The disgust which filled Dilandau’s voice was absolute, as if that was the only reason required to justify his actions.  “For that alone he needed to die.  More importantly, he took part in the attack which hurt your sister… hurt me.”  Fire burned in those eyes, flaring brightly as he spoke his accusations.  “No one raises a hand to me and lives.”

                “And what of my honour?  As a Knight of Caeli, it’s my duty to protect my prisoners.”

                “It’s your duty to avenge your sister and your fallen men.”  Dilandau spat back.  “Yet all you did was let that bastard languish here, eating better than he has in months.”

                “And this was your solution?  Murdering an unarmed man in a cell?  How does that make you any better than him?”  Reaching out a hand, Allen slapped the edge of the blade away and stepped forward, well into Dilandau’s personal space.  All Gaddes could do was watch as the two siblings glared at each other eye to eye.  It was just like old times in all of the wrong ways.

                “I accomplished my goal.  That’s what makes me better than that scum and apparently better than you.”

                “Oh yes, truly an act worthy of praise.”

                As much as Gaddes didn’t want to get in the middle of this, he had a feeling that the argument was only going to get worse and nothing would be accomplished.  It was only a matter of time before someone found the body and they would have to come up with explanations.  Having the two still snarling at each other wasn’t going to make that task any easier when it happened.

                “Dilandau.”  It took some effort to keep his voice steady as those smoldering eyes fixed on him and he felt the spit dry up in his mouth.  Allen might have some deep ties to the kid’s subconscious that kept him from attacking, but the second in command certainly didn’t.  Taking a deep breath, he sent a silent prayer out to Jeture to get him through this.  “What goal did you accomplish?”  Killing the man clearly hadn’t been all of it.  Dilandau wasn’t stupid.  This act stood in the face of everything he’d agreed to and while it was well known that the kid was all too willing to break any and all rules in the name of revenge, this didn’t quite feel right.

                “I found out why they were after Celena and where they are.”  The kid sneered, his glaze flitting back to Allen, full of challenge.  “What you failed at in a day, I learned in five minutes.”

                “So where are they hiding?” The second in command podded gently, still hoping to stave off the impending fight for as long as possible.    Though this time his eyes never moved from the blonde, a slight smirk tugged at the edges of Dilandau’s lips.

                “It seems that your subordinate has a much better sense of priority than you do Schezar.  How about we go elsewhere before that guard I left in the privy wakes up?  I’d hate to sully your precious honour with another dead body.”  The smirk turned into a full blown sneer as Dilandau sheathed his blade with a quick economical motion and then strode out the door.  Pulling his hood further down over his face, he glanced at the two older men in irritation.  “Are you coming?”

                “I’m not leaving a body laying here on the floor for someone to find.”  Allen glared at his sibling, struggling to get a handle on his outrage.  Perhaps Reeden had been right and they should simply lock the Zaibach captain in Crusade’s holding cell.  He was too dangerous and unpredictable, clearly showing no regard for civilized behavior. 

                “So what are you going to do Schezar?  Carry a corpse across town?  I’m sure no one will question that.  Leave the body here.  That pathetic excuse for a guard will simply believe that one of his cohorts snuck in and killed the wretch.  Next time he should take better care of his prisoners.”

                “The kid has a point.”  Gaddes murmured softly, watching as Dilandau pulled the cloaks hood down low over his head and began heading back in the direction of the ship.  “Hey, I don’t agree with his actions, but dealing with the body will take too much time and I don’t think any of us want to explain how a member of the crew broke into the jail to commit murder.  We can’t risk an investigation.”  He could see how sickened Allen was by this gross disregard for life but they had other priorities right now.  “It’s not like the guards are going to raise a stink over it so long as we don’t either.”

                “I loathe the idea of my honour becoming negotiable Gaddes.”  Allen murmured under his breath, inwardly ashamed over just how many rules he’d broken already.  Housing and hiding a known criminal was treason, but he’d done that without a thought as to the consequences.  This was hardly the time for him to start splitting hairs over which rules he would follow and which he’d disregard.  The problem was that this was a very slippery slope and he was already beginning to slide.

                “I’ll go talk to the guard, make sure the kid didn’t do anything permanent to him.”  Gaddes suggested, knowing that Allen would want to ensure that Dilandau actually did head back to the ship rather than slip away in the night with his information to deal with things on his own.  Neither man had a doubt in their minds that the teenager had planned to do exactly that had they not walked in on him.

                “Thank you Gaddes.”  Allen nodded his head gratefully, giving the corpse one last look of distaste before following after his little brother, wondering why the fates seemed to suddenly hate him so much.

                He found Dilandau walking boldly towards the ship, trusting in his direction and openness to assuage any suspicion regarding the hooded cloak.  It was more than a little disheartening to see that he was indeed correct.  Even though there was a sword boldly swinging at his hip, none of the villagers the youth passed took more than a passing second glance at him.  Even in the wake of such a vicious attack, they trusted in the Crusade crew to keep them safe, so much so that they were only making a token effort to protect themselves.

                What he found most distressing was that his own guards at the airship didn’t even seem to notice as Dilandau strode in through the main doors without challenge and disappeared into the interior darkness of the airship.

                Following closely behind, he was honestly not at all surprised to find a knife suddenly at his throat the instant he crossed the threshold.

                “Dead Shezar.  How proud you must be of your crew that not a single one of them even noticed I had either left or returned.”  The knife was withdrawn.  “How does it feel knowing that your crew would have found your lifeless corpse sprawled out on the floor when they returned from their debauchery?”  There was no sound of the weapon being sheathed, meaning Dilandau still held it at the ready. 

                “They will be disciplined accordingly.”  The knight agreed, more than a little disgusted as well with his crew’s lax conduct. 

                “With what?  A stern lecture?”  He could see Dilandau now, leaning against the wall of the entrance, his arms crossed insolently over his chest and his crimson eyes glittering in the darkness.  “If I’d come across guards acting so lackadaisical on the Vionne I’d toss them off the catwalk.”  It wasn’t a bluff, the knight had no doubt that he’d done exactly that.  “A thousand foot drop is an excellent motivator.”

                “This is my crew not some expendable army.”  The knight growled, fighting to keep his suddenly rising anger in check.  Dilandau was an expert at getting under his skin and the amount of stress he was under was simply making everything worse.  “Our lives depend on each other.  We’re a family and you don’t throw family overboard because of mistakes.”  He watched as those eyes glittered dangerously, narrowing at his words.  “Did you throw your Dragon Slayers off the Vionne for allowing Van to escape during the attack on Fanelia?”  Even as he spoke the words, Allen desperately hoped that the boy hadn’t.  There had to be some sense of humanity left intact despite Zaibach’s atrocities.

                The two warriors stared at each other for a long moment, locked in a contest of wills, daring the other to back down.

                “My Dragon Slayers were excellent soldiers and would rather have died than drink while on guard duty.  They most certainly wouldn’t be trolling about town when there was an enemy in the area.”  The young captain growled softly in response.  “Your men are undisciplined.  That lack of discipline allowed the bandits to reach Celena and it will put everyone in danger in the future until they improve.  I will not trust my mission or my safety to fools who put more focus in playing cards and discussing local whores than watching a prisoner.”

                Allen honestly had no idea if the prisoner he was referring to was the now deceased brigand, or himself.  Either way, he was right.  The crew should have notified him the instant they were unsure as to Dilandau’s whereabouts and the men on watch should have noticed everyone arriving or leaving the Crusade.  They’d gotten lax since the war, returning to the ease they’d languished in before Castilo had burned.  Still, he knew the rigid level of discipline Dilandau was accustomed to would be far too intense for the crew.  They would never stand for having their every thought and action strictly regimented.   Jeture, it would drive even the Knights of Caeli to madness. 

                “You complain about lack of discipline within my men, but what about you?”  Allen couldn’t resist asking as he motioned for the youth to follow him to the map room.  He was sorely tempted to grab Dilandau’s arm and forcibly drag him there but knew that it would only further escalate the problem at hand… and the brat was armed.

                “I did what needed to be done Schezar.”  The reply was overflowing with smugness.  “How long would you have stood there demanding answers from the prisoner?  Another day?  Two?  Perhaps a colour?  It’s not as if we’re at all pressed for time.”  Thankfully Dilandau followed him as he spoke, happy to have someone to vent at.

                “I am your superior officer on this ship.  You don’t need to agree with my orders Dilandau but you are expected to obey them.”

                “Or what?  You’ll turn me in to the authorities?  Throw me in the brig?  Hmph, we both know those are empty threats.”  Spinning around sharply, Allen grabbed onto one of the youths slender wrists twisting it so that the collection of scars was nearly pressed against the boy’s face, the wounds clearly visible.

                “Is this what you’re wanting then?”  The knight hissed, struggling to keep his voice down though he dearly wanted to scream out his frustrations.  “I’m doing my best to treat you like a reasonable human being but you’re fighting me every step of the way.  You’re not an animal Dilandau and you’re not a monster.  They treated you like that.  Not me.  I’m not your enemy.”

                He released the wrist quickly and leaped back as the silver flash of a knife’s blade sliced through the air where his neck had been moments before.  Dilandau stood there, his eyes blazing with rage and his teeth barred as he pressed his wrist tightly against his chest.

“YOU LEFT ME!”  He screamed loudly, likely capturing the attention of everyone in the ship.  “YOU LET THEM TAKE HER!  YOU LET THEM MAKE ME!  DID YOU EVEN LOOK?  ENCIA DIED OF GRIEF, BUT WHERE WERE YOU SCHEZAR?  HOW COULD YOU LOOK INTO MY EYES OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND NOT KNOW IT WAS ME?”  There was so much grief and pain in those accusations that Allen felt his heart break.  Groping for words of comfort, he reached out to touch his lost sibling, only to be greeted by the knife pointed menacingly at his face.  “No… instead you mocked me publically.  You blocked me at every turn; costing me my mission and helping that demon murder my friends… my family.”  The hand holding the weapon shook but Allen had no doubt that if he struck, his aim would be true.  All he could do was stare into those tortured eyes filled with unfathomable hatred and madness.

“Do you have any idea what they did to me for that failure?”  Dilandau spat softly.  “Do you have any idea how loudly I screamed and begged for them to stop their tortures?  While you and your friends were celebrating the slaughter of everyone I ever cared about, they were tearing me apart.  But you never cared about that, all you cared about was your precious Celena.

“Well I’m trying to give her back to you Allen so that I can go back to being the nothing I was supposed to be, so I can stop hearing my world die over and over again.  But all you can do is lecture me about your precious morals?”  Dilandau laughed brokenly, the knife slowly lowering until it rested at his side.  “You won’t let me die, and you won’t let me do what I need to do.” 

Allen stared in silence as Dilandau drew in a deep shuddering breath, seeming to calm somewhat though the rage in those molten eyes hadn’t dimmed in the slightest.

“Either throw me in the damn brig, or get the hell out of my way.”  Squaring his shoulders, Dilandau glared at the blonde and stalked past him into the map room.  “I’ve got work to do.  If you’re not going to help me, then send in someone who will.”

All the knight could do was stand there, staring at the retreating figure in utter shock, not even aware of the tears which welled up in the corners of his eyes or how badly he was shaking.

A sound off to the side made him glance over at the worried faces of his crew who stared at him with open concern, waiting to hear what he was going to do.

“Are you alright Boss?”  Kio asked softly, unsure about what exactly had just happened.

“I’m fine.  Go round up the men, we’ll be leaving shortly.”  Allen allowed himself a deep bracing breath, his mind still struggling to sort out everything that had just happened.  Gaddes had been right, he was losing Dilandau.  It was one thing to know that they’d been enemies, but that utter hatred he’d seen shining out of eyes which just this morning had been filled with complete trust…even if only for a moment…He’d only ever looked at Van with eyes like that and it chilled Allen deeply.  He’d wronged the youth terribly, in more than just the past few hours.  While most was understandable because of the war, a lot of it had been wholly because of his own selfishness and ignorance.

“You got the prisoner to talk?”  Several of the men began to murmur eagerly, pleased to be able to begin their quest for justice.  “That’s great Boss! 

“Dilandau did.”  Many of those smiles quickly faded.  They all knew what that implied and quickly realized the nature of the fight they’d just witnessed.  “I want us ready to leave within the hour.”

 

 

When he walked into the map room, he found Dilandau studying a topographical map which had been laid out on the table.  Compass and caliper in hand, the youth was taking careful measurements with an ease borne of experience. 

“You can read that?”  Allen asked, only to mentally kick himself for such a stupid question.  He’d been stationed on the Vionne, a massive floating fortress and led a flight capable regiment of soldiers.  Of course he’d be able to read a bloody topographical map.  Clearly Dilandau was thinking the same thing as he didn’t even deign to glance up and acknowledge it.

“I don’t suppose you have anything like a shadowgraph to work with?  Astorian maps are far more stylized than I’m used to.  Honestly, who the hell decided to draw in a bloody land dragon the size of Palas Harbour here?   Also, your tools are medieval.  However did your people learn to actually fly?” 

Allen bit back a sigh, realizing that they weren’t going to discuss what had just happened out in the hallway.  He wasn’t sure if it was for the best to let the youth bury those obviously gaping wounds once again but was loathe to push him too far.

“Sorry that they’re not up to your usual standards.   I’ll hail the next floating fortress we come across and ask if they’re willing to sell some equipment.”  That earned him a sidelong glance as the teenager gauged it he was being mocked or not.

“He claimed that they have two working guimelefs with three currently nonoperational.”  Dilandau finally stated.  “Standard models, so you won’t have to worry about flight capabilities or stealth cloaks.  Expect twenty or so men, deserters from the army.  They’ll be in about the same condition as the raiders physically but likely be better armed.  They were passing themselves off as common brigands so their superior gear and any technology would have been kept at their basecamp.”  As he spoke, he drew careful lines on the map with a straight edge, triangulating a specific area.

“The area is going to be rough for a landing party.  Mostly swamp interspersed with rocky terrain.  Your Melef will be useless in the swamp and easily caught wrong footed on the rocks, so mind where you put those feet.  They’ve preferred to rely on the environment and isolation to keep people away rather than rely on traps which might arouse suspicion.  Unlike some people, they’ve posted alert guards around the area of their camp.”  Another sidelong look was cast in Allen’s direction.

“Where are they?”  Allen made sure that the table was between them as he approached to look at the map, studying the area carefully.  His lips thinned slightly as he took in the location Dilandau was marking for Kio.  He hadn’t been exaggerating; the swampy ground would be treacherous for a ship to land.  The mountains edge would be preferable, but there was no cover.  They’d be horribly exposed for far too long.

 “There are caves in the mountain.  Some are apparently big enough to house guimelefs.  Sound familiar?”

“No secret waterfall exit though.”  That earned him a slight smile from the albino who gave a vague head nod.

“If that damn Strategos had told me about it even a minute sooner, you’d have all been our prisoners.”

“If I had taken Hitomi seriously, we’d have evacuated the fort hours before you arrived.”  Allen didn’t glance up at all, hoping that the conversation was the olive branch he hoped it was.  “Who in their right mind would believe someone babbling about invisible giants?”

There was a minute or two of silence as they both stared at the map, neither wanting to look at the other and break their tentative peace.

“Was she really your lover?”  Dilandau’s tone was one of studied indifference but the very fact that he’d asked that question spoke otherwise.

“No.”  Allen found himself admitting.  “I’d only just met her a few hours previous.  It… it was the only thing I could think of to make you want to leave as quickly as possible.”  Dilandau made a soft sound which might have been either a chuckle or a sound of irritation.  He didn’t dare look over to see the expression that went with it.

“I came very close to drawing my sword on you when you kissed her in front of me.”  The Zaibach captain admitted softly.  “Not that I cared.  I just hate surprises.”

“I believe you made your displeasure abundantly apparent.”  That sound was definitely one of amusement but Allen couldn’t bring himself to be angry over it.  He’d made the statement after all in full knowledge of Dilandau’s resulting actions.

“Why didn’t you just hand over the dragon?”  The tools were placed down on the table and the two finally looked up at each other.  The madness had faded from Dilandau’s eyes, leaving only a brittle mask to hide his pain and confusion.  “Why would you show more loyalty to that barbarian king than to me?”

Straightening his back, Allen sighed softly and ran his fingers through his hair as he searched for a reason that Dilandau would understand.  Explaining how deplorable he found the surprise attack on Fanelia would mean nothing to the Zaibach youth.  Not even explaining that a king had come to him for help would do much to sway him.  After all, they had a treaty with Zaibach to lend aid, not Fanelia.

“I’d given my word to help him.”  He finally said, aware that no matter how warped it might be, Dilandau still did have a strong sense of honour, it simply had a rather narrow focus.  The silver head tilted slightly as the teenager tried to grasp at the logic and cool crimson eyes narrowed.

“But your country had agreed to aid Zaibach.  We came to your fortress as allies seeking an enemy.  You broke your word to us in hiding him.  You broke trust with me.”

“We had no idea what was going on.  I didn’t know it was Zaibach who’d attacked Fanelia.  None of us did until your unit arrived.”  Allen held that troubled gaze, wanting Dilandau to believe that he’d done his best in a bad situation to do the right thing.  “I’d already given my word at that point so I couldn’t turn him over.  My intention was to send him on his way once Hitomi had healed.  So I provisioned your unit and got you to leave, hoping to buy him a little time.”

“It all could have ended there Schezar.  The war would have been over with Fanelia being the only casualty.  Castilo and Palas would never have been burned if you’d just turned him over.”

“Burning those places was your decision Dilandau, but even you must know that if Dornkirk had won, this world would have been warped forever by his madness.”

“My Dragon Slayers would have been alive!”  Dilandau hissed, his anger flaring again.  “We would have been heroes!  You would have been a hero!  We could have been together without you having to hide!”  Allen shook his head gently, fully aware of what an empty dream that would have been.

“Dornkirk is the one who authorized what was done to you Dilandau.  His Madoushi would have twisted this world with their cruelty.  Do you honestly think they would have left you alone?  They’d have found other children to twist and torment… maybe your Dragon Slayers.  You never believed in his dream, you told me that once.  You just wanted to fight and prove yourself to be the best.”

“You still chose to betray me Allen.”

“Then I apologize, but I was doing what I felt was the right thing in the end.”  Now Dilandau made a sound if annoyed disgust, focussing back on the map.

“Words are empty things for men like us Allen.  I prefer actions.”  Reaching out, he marked a section where a small mountain in the center of the swamp was drawn.  “This is where you’ll find the deserters.  I’m not sure where the cave is exactly, but the mouth will have to be large enough for the melef’s and low to the ground.  It should be simple enough to spot now that we know what we’re looking for.  I would suggest approaching at night so the lookouts don’t spot you and staying low to the trees so no one notices the stars being blocked.

“Are you going to throw me in the brig now that you have the information you need?  Or are you going to let me fight?” 

“I’ll do one better Dilandau.”  Allen said softly, mentally calculating how long it should take to fly to the location.  “I’m going to drop you off a short distance away so they don’t hear the sounds of our engines.  You’re going to sneak into their camp and cause a distraction.  Use whatever methods you feel will be necessary.  I’m sure you can figure something out that will be effective.” 

He could actually feel the grin on the youths face as countless scenarios filled with mayhem drifted through his mind.  It was the best that he could do as a reward for the Zaibach captain… and as an apology.  For a moment he almost felt sorry for the deserters hidden within the caves of the mountains.  Then he remembered those broken sobs as well as the sight of the blood smearing Dilandau’s thighs and all sympathy was forgotten.  They would have their revenge.

 

*****************************

 

“So, he really went out there?”

“I bet a round of drinks that the kid runs for the hills.”

“I’ll take that bet.  Dilandau doesn’t even know how to run from a fight.”

“You don’t gotta sound impressed about that you know.”

“Hey, so long as he stays pointed at the enemy, I’m happy to have him around.  He keeps things exciting.”

“How will we know when he distracts them?  We’re miles away.”

“Do you not remember the war?  We’ll see the flames from here.”

“What if there’s nothing flammable around?”

“The kid could make rocks burn if he wanted to.”

“Don’t give him ideas, the last thing I need is him exploding the levistones.”

Gaddes listened to the excited banter of the crew with half an ear, fighting to keep a faint smile from his lips.  He was more than a little surprised at how quickly the crew had accepted the temperamental soldier into their ranks.  Granted, a good deal of that was because they’d been ordered to get along, but the kid had a certain charisma about him that seemed to pull you along with him despite knowing that he was as mad as a bag full of cats.  The fire of his personality was utterly uncompromising and you couldn’t help but admire that. 

Tightening the buckle on his greaves, he looked up at Allen who was making some last minute adjustments to something in Scheherazade.  Brilliant blue eyes were narrowed in concentration and the man was clearly doing his best to occupy his mind so that he wasn’t fretting over what was likely happening at the base of the mountain. 

It had been over an hour since they’d dropped Dilandau off in the swamp and what with there being no way to communicate with him, they didn’t even know if he’d reached the hideout safely.  Allen was likely tearing at himself internally about whether or not he’d made the right decision.

“He’ll be fine Boss.”  Gaddes said, keeping his tone light and conversational as he pretended to focus on the stubborn leather of the strap rather than staring up at his friend.

“I know he will.”  Allen’s voice was tight and rather carefully controlled as he struggled to not reveal any of his churning emotions.  “It’s a chance at causing mayhem and carnage.  There’s no way Dilandau will let anything get between him and that.” 

Gaddes couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at that and almost felt a flash of pity for the poor fools who were about to have hell itself unleashed on them.

“At least the crew’s morale is up.  I never thought I’d see them excited about the prospect of a fight involving that little psycho.  Amazing how things change sometimes isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”  Allen pulled on a strap and examined the leather critically, not even looking at Gaddes.  “Though I would prefer if you didn’t refer to my little brother as a psycho.  I’m aware of his issues but making light of them aids no one.”

“C’mon Boss, siblings are supposed to make your life difficult, there’s no shame in it.  Granted, most people’s siblings don’t make a habit of burning entire countries to the ground…”  He added somewhat under his breath.  “Seriously though, are you really sure about this?  I mean we sent him into that hornet’s nest armed with only a sword.  There’s supposed to be twenty armed soldiers there… and melefs.”

Allen sighed softly and leaned back in his cockpit, letting his head thump lightly against the back of his harness.

“You’re right… he’ll likely complain of being bored.”

“Hey, you’re the one who gave me hell of letting the kid spar with the crew.  Now you send him out into battle?  After all we’ve been through, that’s a pretty ballsy move.”  Allen took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm rather than grow irritated as his second in commands continued prodding.  The man had every right to be concerned, and honestly, it was his job to question Allen’s more unusual decisions, but his nerves were already frayed and this certainly wasn’t helping soothe them.

“Considering that my other choice was to drug him and lock him up in the brig, this was the best option.”  Finally looking down, he watched Gaddes fiddling with the straps on his chest plate, noting that he was loosening it slightly.  Maybe Dilandau had been right in stating that they’d all allowed themselves to get a little soft after the war.  Extra training was certainly in order, especially if this incident was indeed part of something larger as he suspected.  It was obvious to him that the young captain hadn’t told them everything he’d learned from the prisoner.  The kid wasn’t stupid.  He’d keep a few cards close to his chest.  The question was who would likely be hurt because of it.

“It’s still not a bad option you know…  It would likely mean fewer bodies.”  Gaddes couldn’t quite keep the bitter notes out of his voice at that.  At least Allen hadn’t had to deal with the guard after finding out that his prisoner had been killed on his watch.  That had taken far more fast talking than he ever wanted to do outside of a card game and he vowed that if the kid ever pulled a stunt like that again, he’d tie the brat up and dangle him out the back of the Crusade for a few hours.

“So you’re not worried about him?”  Gaddes continued to press, making the knight grit his teeth savagely in order to keep from yelling.

“Yes, I’m worried about him.  We just sent a severely emotionally disturbed teenager out alone to distract his old allies.  Is that what you want to hear Gaddes?  Yes, he could decide to join up with them and ignite a whole new war on Gaea.  Yes he could get killed and yes, he could act as he did at the last battle of the war and just slaughter anyone who comes anywhere near him, or there’s always the possibility that he’ll freeze up the instant he feels overwhelmed.”  He slammed a hydraulic hose back into its socket with perhaps a tad more force than was needed and noticed Gaddes wince, fixing an apologetic smile on his face.  “Dilandau is right though.  I can’t treat him like Celena and I can’t hold him back from fights.  Whatever those sorcerers did to him, it’s obvious that he thrives on violence.  If I try to keep him away from it, I have a feeling that I’d be doing more harm than good.”

                Closing his eyes, Allen reminded himself that it hadn’t always been like that.  The Dilandau he’d met that first night in Astoria had been bloodthirsty yes, and the way his eyes had shone at the thought of battle had been undeniable.  It hadn’t been an all-consuming drive though.  He’d been in control of himself back then, he’d been sane.  Which begged the question, was it the war which had driven him to this madness?  The loss of his squad?  Or had the Sorcerers meddled with the boy one too many times and damaged his psyche?  He’d give anything to know, but that would require the two of them having a civilized conversation that lasted more than thirty seconds before blades were drawn.

“I just don’t know what to do Gaddes.”  He finally admitted.  “It’s like he doesn’t want my help at all.”

“I don’t think he does.”  The darker man shrugged slightly, buckling on his sword and ensuring it was secure.  “He doesn’t see that there’s anything wrong with him.  What he does see if you acting strangely towards him.  He’s known you as a lover and an enemy.  This whole surprise sibling thing is just too far outside his realm of experience to accept, so he’s fighting it.”

“I can’t change what he is.”

“No, but I’ve noticed that when you treat him like a person rather than like a younger sibling, or a sacred family heirloom you’re scared will get damaged, he relaxes.  Failing that, the kid’s military through and through.  Treat him like a soldier.  Slap him down when he gets out of line, keep him busy and on a schedule.”  Personally, that was Gaddes’ idea of hell, but even he had to admit that there was a certain level of comfort to be found in the familiar.

“We got fire!  Pyle owes us all drinks!”  Came the excited cries of the crew as the port side window lit up from a brilliant burst of light coming from the direction of the camp.  It seemed that as expected, Dilandau had found something to explode.

“Form up!”  Allen called out loudly enough to be heard over the cheers of the men.  “Scheherazade will exit first and engage any enemy melefs.  The rest of the skirmish party will exit upon landing.  Watch your backs everyone.  We don’t know what sort of setup they have and check your targets.  I do NOT want to have Dilandau hit by friendly fire.”

“We taking prisoners?”  Ort asked, tossing his knives into the air and catching them without effort despite the jostling of the Crusade suddenly banking sharply to get on course.

“If there’s any still alive when we get there.”  Reeden murmured a little too loudly, earning himself a dark glare from Allen before the knight closed the cockpit up, sealing himself inside his Melef.

 

 

It was a warzone, made worse by the searing flames which towered nearly as tall as Scheherazade itself.  Allen didn’t even want to try to figure out how Dilandau had managed that in the middle of a swamp.

They’d been greeted by a camp in chaos.  Several bodies already lay strewn on the ground, their skin burned black from the flames, though there were enough of them bearing deep and bloody wounds to assure everyone that the young captain had indulged in his bloodlust.

Men were racing about; most of them clad in armour and ready to defend themselves despite the surprise of the attack and the late hour.  Several had banded together into groups, taking advantage of their superior numbers to try to isolate and surround members of the Crusade crew as they disembarked.  Unfortunately for them, the crew had cut their teeth in the war fighting the Dragon Slayers who had excelled in such tactics.  These men were juvenile in compared to those lethal children.

From the vantage point provided by his guymelef, Allen watched as his men kept together, fighting back to back in order to protect their flanks.  He could see areas where the ground had been caved in, revealing sharpened spears of wood at the bottom and sent out a silent thanks to Dilandau for exposing them, whether by accident or design.  It had likely saved the lives of several of his crew.

Doing his best to avoid stepping on anyone on either side of the fray, the knight scanned the area for any sign of an Alseides unit.  While Dilandau had stated that there weren’t any equipped with the deadly stealth cloaks, it was no guarantee.  Zaibach had always been expert at false information and the knight had no intention of underestimating them now.

Instincts honed on the battlefield were all that saved Allen as he suddenly ducked to the side, just in time to avoid three long twisting spears of liquid metal.  Spinning around, the knight saw the exaggerated rounded shoulders of an Alseides unit emerge from the side of the mountain.  It’s deep blue metal hull rendering it nearly invisible with the nights darkness.

Sword drawn, Allen charged the enemy unit, blocking the next volley of crima claws shot at him, sending them spiralling off away from the battle.

“Surrender now!”  He yelled out, his voice swallowed up by the noise of the battle.  Not that he actually expected the enemy pilot to listen, but it was his duty to extend that option.

The parry had caused the Alseides arm to swing wide and Allen took advantage of the opening to slash with the massive longsword in his melef’s hands.  The move was swift and precise, but the enemy pilot wasn’t a slouch and the crima metal warped in an eye blink to flatten out into a conical shield. 

Sparks flared along its length as metal scraped metal and Allen quickly leaped away an instant before the metal shifted again, attempting to trap his sword within its malleable grasp.  It had been a favourite trick of Dilandau’s.  One he’d seen firsthand and knew well enough how to anticipate.  This pilot was good, but nowhere near the lethality of the Dragon Slayer Captain.  Speaking of… where was he?

Unable to risk glancing around for the wayward Slayer, Allen parried another blow and knocked aside the arm once again, scoring a deep hit on the appendage.  Liquid metal sprayed from the gash and the knight knew that it would soon lose pressure, but that would still take time.  He had to disable the machine quickly before it chose to step on someone.

Before he could press his attack, something smashed into his side, sending the melef staggering to its knees.  It was the second melef making its entrance, but Allen had no time to study it as he had to leap to the side to avoid the lethal downward swing of his first enemies’ crima sword.  He’d forgotten how much he loathed fighting crima weapons.  It was almost impossible to anticipate what they would shift into.

“Hand over the girl and we’ll ransom you back to Astoria Schezar.”  A mechanized voice spoke from behind him.  The second melef stood there, crima sword at the ready.  As it spoke, the first Alseides slid to the side, trying to trap Allen between them, leaving his flanks open to attack.  Before it could get into position, the knight lunged, forcing the pilot to dodge or risk being skewered.  It gave him a moment of breathing room, allowing him to quickly survey the area and avoid any more possible surprises.

The two melefs advanced on him, trying to force him back into the less stable terrain of the swamp where their crima claws would be the superior weapons.

“Your men for the girl Schezar.  This is your last chance.”  The voice spoke again and despite the mechanical distortion of the speakers, Allen could hear the smugness in the voice.  To add further weight to the warning, the speaker pointed an arm towards the tiny armoured figures battling against the Zaibach soldiers, the tip of a crima claw emerging from one of the five slots on the end of the machines arm.

“You’ll kill your own men.”  Allen shot back, edging to the side, careful of his footing as the ground began to sink threateningly beneath the weight of his feet.  Damn, he was too close to the swamps edge.  Manoeuvering would be much more difficult if he went any further.

“They’re aware of the risks of war.”  The pilot replied coldly.  “Decide now, my patience isn’t infinite.”

A nearby explosion caused the ground to tremble warningly around them and the flare of light was temporarily blinding.  Bad luck that Allen had been facing it directly, but the enemy melef’s had been closer to the blast and staggered slightly from the force, their long cloaks creating a sudden drag as the wind caught them.

A crima sword sliced down though the fire, tearing through the extended arm of the enemy melef just as the deadly spear was launched, aborting the attack and spraying liquid metal in all directions as the severed limb fell to the ground.  Both Alseides spun around to face this new enemy and then froze as that blood chilling cackle of maniacal glee filtered through new Alseides speakers filled the air.

It had been colours since anyone had heard that nightmarish sound and it brought the entire battle to a standstill as enemies and allies alike drew back in dread.  If Death itself had a voice, this was it, and it sounded all too delighted to partake in the festivities.

Framed by the flames was a third Alseides, slightly larger than the other two.  Its rounded shoulders reflected the light of the fire menacingly and the long blade of liquid metal formed at the tip of its right arm practically glowed.

“Oh it’s been far too long since I’ve had fun.”  Dilandau purred in-between giggles, his voice dripping with anticipation.  “Who wants to play with me first?”  The two enemy Alseides were clearly unsure as to who was now the biggest threat.  They knew exactly who they were dealing with in that third Melef, but had no idea who’s side he was on.  Allen was faring little better.  Seeing Dilandau piloting another war machine was at the top of his worst case scenario list and he honestly had no idea which way the situation was going to go.  Unlike the two Zaibach pilots however, he wasn’t about to let that stop him.  If the Dragon Slayer was going to attack him, it would only be after he’d exacted his more immediate revenge.

“Aim for the left shoulders Schezar, disable the energist and they’ll shut down.”  The statement was punctuated by a stab at the aforementioned shoulder which was desperately turned aside by the lead melef.

“What… what are you doing Captain Albatou!?”

“Killing you of course.”  Dilandau replied gleefully, using his momentum to score a long slice down the arm of the melef despite the parry.  “I’m going to peel you out of that armour and crush you under my feet.” 

Panicking, the enemy melef raised the other arm and fired off several crima claws, forcing Dilandau to parry three with his sword while dodging the other two.  Unlike the other two Alseides, he wasn’t taking advantage of the metamorphic capabilities of the liquid metal, making Allen wonder if there was some damage to his unit.

Unable to take the time to give his partners situation much thought, Allen lunged at the other melef, taking advantage of the pilot’s distraction to score a deep hit along the flank and causing more liquid metal to pour from the gaping hole.  Staggering, the Alseides tried to recover its lost balance despite the damaged leg and Allen seized the moment to drive his sword deep into the shoulder where he could see the glow of the energist encased inside. 

The plating provided little defense against a direct hit and there was a sharp hiss as the casement was breached, releasing a crimson burst of light before the machine sank lifelessly against his sword.

A quick twist pulled the blade free and he shifted in time to see Dilandau drive the tip of his sword into the cockpit of the melef he was fighting.  It was a shallow cut, meant to draw out the pilot’s demise rather than kill him outright.

“Scream for me you bastard.”  Dilandau hissed.  “Beg me the way she did!”  The sword twisted a little deeper and the pilot tried to strike at his assailant with the remaining arm of his melf, but Dilandau was too close and the attack was ineffective.  Not even the crima claws were of any use in this situation.  “BEG FOR ME!”

“Please!!! Please Captain Albatou!  Don’t kill me!!  We’re on the same side!”

“Dilandau, we need them alive.”

“Piss off Schezar!  They are going to die for what they did!”  The blade twisted again and the screams of the pilot grew in pitch and volume.  Any moment now, Dilandau would hit something vital and it would all be over.  While Allen wouldn’t shed a tear of the loss of the pilot’s life, he wanted them to face proper justice.  The melef was clearly beaten after all.

Treat him like a soldier, Gaddes had said.  He’s been raised in the military, conditioned to follow orders from a superior.  The knight wasn’t sure if it would work, but he couldn’t stand here and watch Dilandau murder a man who had already lost.  No matter how much the bastard deserved it.

“STAND DOWN DILANDAU!  That’s an order!”  He bellowed in a voice usually only used for unruly mobs and the dressing down of subordinates.   For a moment, he wasn’t sure if it had worked, but then to his surprise, the blade was removed from the enemy melef though Dilandau did take a moment to shove the machine to the ground and quickly stab its energist casement.  Only once its power source was destroyed did he back away, the Alseides itself seeming to almost radiate resentment at being denied a proper kill.  “Secure the perimeter and ensure that there’s no one attempting to break away.” 

“This unit is operating on auxiliary power Schezar.”  For once Dilandau actually sounded perfectly calm and reasonable, albeit still more than a tad annoyed at being called off his prey.  “I had to jury rig it and bypass some safety systems to get it to do even this much.”  There was a soft hissing sound which was likely the teenager snarling softly in frustration.  “I only have about three more minutes of power.”  Ah, so heading out after wayward deserters wouldn’t be a wise course of action, at least not if he intended to do it with the guimelef. 

“Care to show off your tracking skills?”  The knight found himself smiling, his voice filled with almost playful challenge.

“I do so enjoy taking walks at night.”  He could hear the grin in Dilandau’s voice and watched as the Alseides knelt down and opened up the cockpit.  Dilandau hopped out with skill borne of long practice, landing next to one of the massive feet and racing off into the darkness.  “Anyone touching my melef will find themselves on the point of my sword!”  He called over his shoulder, his eyes reflecting the firelight with flames of their own.

Confident that the boy would be safe enough, he turned to focus his attention on the two enemy pilots.  One was already climbing out of his damaged unit on wobbly legs.  Looking up, the man found the point of the massive sword levelled against him and without a word, knelt on the muddy ground with his hands behind his head. 

“I beg the mercy of the noble country of Astoria.”  He said loudly, ensuring that the knight would be honour bound to protect his life until justice was served.  Fat lot it had done the man’s compatriot in the cell back at the village, but Allen was under no obligation to explain that. 

The other melef, still badly damaged from Dilandau’s sadistic attack remained motionless, the cockpit hatch sealed shut.  Allen had no way of knowing if the pilot was dead, or simply lying in wait but he honestly didn’t dare exit Scheherazade to check.  Just because the enemy had surrendered didn’t mean that they wouldn’t take advantage of his turned back.

A quick glance showed that the battle was still underway though the Crusade crew were pressing their advantage.  Seeing the two Alseides fall and hearing that god-awful laughter had pretty much demoralized the men.   Still, they were too busy to spare anyone to check the injured pilot.

“You.”  Allen called down to the kneeling soldier.  “Check on the other pilot, ensure that he’s still alive.  Run and I will withdraw my protection.”  That was no small threat considering the man knew that Dilandau was stalking the woods.

Offering no challenge, the pilot quickly scrambled over to his companions melef and did something on the side of the cockpit, likely keying in some sort of code to open it.  Liquid metal spilled out onto the ground, bathing the dirt silver as it pooled beneath the melef.  As the cockpit door slip open with several hissing jerks, the knight could see the injured man lying in his harness, blood staining the nearby sensory array.  From what he could tell, the man’s leg was nearly severed at mid-thigh, attached only by a few remaining scraps of metal and flesh.  It was a messy wound and the limb was wholly unsalvageable. 

“He needs a medic or he’ll die!”  The pilot called up, already pulling his own belt off and trying it tightly around the limb just above the grizzly wound in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. 

“Our medic is currently engaged fighting with your soldiers.  Unless you can order their surrender you’re going to have to cauterize the wound yourself.”  Allen felt rather heartless in giving the order but he continued to remind himself that these were the men who’d ordered the attack on his sister, whose men had assaulted her.  They would receive no pity from him or any of his crew.  He watched dispassionately as the pilot’s lips thinned into a grim line and he looked around for a nearby fire.  At least in that, Dilandau had seen that they were well provided for.  There was no shortage of burning material and in mere moments, the pilot had procured a burning board.

Forcing himself to watch as the pilot applied the burning end to the wound didn’t make him feel any better, but he felt that it was somehow part of his duty as a knight.  He’d ordered it after all.  The injured man’s screams and the stench of sizzling flesh filled the air while off to the side, the battle was drawing to a close. 

Quick and brutal, they’d fared much better than they would have had they just charged the camp.  Those pits alone would have claimed several lives and slowed them down long enough for the Alseides to pick them off from a distance.  It would have been even worse had they managed to fortify their position, especially with the cave system at their back.  They’d been lucky tonight.

 

****************

 

They’d been at the camp for nearly two hours and the moon was high in the sky.  Teo had stabilized the wounded pilot as best as he was able though the man was unconscious and not likely to awaken anytime soon.  Thankfully the other pilot had survived with only minor bruising and was currently chained up in the Crusade’s brig with the rest of the soldiers.

Five Zaibach soldiers had survived the attack, throwing down their weapons when it was obvious that they’d been overwhelmed.  While in better shape than the “raiders” who’d attacked the inn, most still had obviously been living rough for some time.  Their armour hung loosely on their frames and all of them had a look of desperation in their eyes.

Thirteen dead lay on the battlefield; six were claimed by the crew, leaving the remainder as victims of the Pride of Zaibach.  In a way, Allen felt that it was fitting, they were deserters after all and in a way, justice had been served.  Every soldier knew the punishment for desertion, especially in Zaibach, a country not known for its mercy.  Astoria preferred enforced hard labour for its deserters while Fanelia cast them out into their dragon infested forests.  None were preferable fates but that was the idea wasn’t it?

“They could have fortified themselves in the caves.”  Gaddes stated as he walked over to Allen who was examining Scheherazade for battle damage.  The knight glanced over at his second in command and raised a golden eyebrow.  “They had walls set up, basic fortifications, even murder holes for the archers.  This could have gotten real ugly.”

“I take it that something happened ruin to that strategy?”  Though he had a rather strong idea, it still merited asking.

“Yeah, seems the wall blew in.  That was the first explosion we saw.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but grin in amusement.  “I found some Death Cap spore pieces all burned up near one of the torches where the worst of the damage was.  Seems someone collected a whole bag of the things and left them near the flames.  Don’t suppose our little pyro is into botany?” 

Allen glanced out at the swamp, a faint smile on his lips.  Celena had always loved flowers, perhaps some of that had carried over to Dilandau.  If it had, he wondered what other traits might manifest in the young warrior.

“You can ask him yourself.  I believe that’s him over there.”  He glanced over at the shadow moving towards them.  While they were more than a tad filthy, the moonlight still managed to illuminate his silver hair and pale flesh, turning them into beacons for all too see.

“He’s going to want to keep that monstrosity, you know that right?”  Gaddes motioned towards the huge Alseides which still knelt on the ground patiently awaiting its master.  “There’s no way he’s going to give it up without a fight.”  Allen felt his happy mood abruptly vanish at that thought, only to have it replaced with an impending headache.

“It’s broken, he said so himself.”

“He also said that he’s been trained in melef repair.  How much do you want to bet he gets that damn thing running again?”  All Allen could do was sigh.  Another melef, especially in the hands of an expert pilot would be an incredible boon to the Crusade crew and Astoria in general.  They’d lost so many in the war and honestly the few working Alseides that they’d found had proven to be impossible to understand.  Their systems were insanely complex and were operated by a wholly alien system that no classical melef pilot could even hope to comprehend, Allen included.  They’d lost three pilots to meltdowns and countless others to malfunctions before the Zaibach weapons were deemed to be unusable.

If Dilandau could train pilots to control those melefs, Astoria’s army would be back at full capacity years before any other country.  The big problem however was that it was Dilandau, in the pilot seat of a guymelef which was a whole world of problems just waiting to happen.

While he was pondering just how big a political powder keg he was sitting on, the soldier in question walked up to him and tossed two swords at his feet.  One was Zaibach while the other was Freid; the latter likely stolen from the dead.

“Two deserters ran into the swamp.”  Crimson eyes glittered and his lips turned up into that all too familiar smirk.  Allen knew that he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, but was resigned to listen anyway.  “They slipped and fell into quicksand.  It was tragic.  I’m sure their bodies will never be found.”

Rather than scold the youth, he simply nodded his head.  Let those lives sate his lust for revenge so they could focus on the living prisoners and whatever web they were tangled up in.

“Go see to your guymelef.”  He ordered instead, earning a surprised look from both Dilandau and Gaddes.  As much as it galled him to allow the former Dragon Slayer access to a war machine, he knew a losing battle when he saw one.  Besides, he’d saved the lives of his men with that thing.  Perhaps there might be some hope for his sibling yet.  He just had to remember to ensure that the flame thrower mechanism stayed offline.  “Once you get it aboard the Crusade, get some rest. 

“Gaddes, have Kio elevate the Crusade up about three hundred feet once we’re all aboard.  That should keep us above any attacks just in case we missed anyone tonight and I want two guards on the prisoners at all times.  They are not to be harmed for any reason.  They asked for mercy and it has been granted.”  He paused for a moment to give Dilandau a rather pointed look.  Rather than looking guilty, the teenager appeared to be utterly disinterested and perhaps a tad confused.    “Pass the word out to the men to get some rest as well.  They’re welcome to eat and drink tonight, they’ve done well.  Tomorrow we’ll work on what we’re going to do with our new guests.  Dismissed.” 

Gaddes flipped him a jaunty salute and practically strutted in the direction of the nearest group of crewmen who were loading anything remotely valuable or incriminating onto the ship.  Dilandau remained where he was, his confusion growing with every passing moment until Allen finally took pity on him.

“You are welcome to ask questions when you have them, so long as they’re respectful and not during combat.”  He watched patiently as Dilandau groped for words, trying to articulate whatever was bothering him.  At least he appeared to be calm and under control once again.  There was no anger in his eyes or his body language, though he did take a moment to look at the Alseides, the Crusade, the crew then back at Allen.

“That’s it?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean.”  It was hard to keep from smiling at the youth’s discomfiture, but somehow Allen retained his impassive mask.

“Don’t you want a report?”  Dilandau was honestly confused over the concept of simply being dismissed after the completion of a mission.  Folken would have had him at least giving a brief verbal report followed by a detailed written report, covering every possible action taken during the assignment.  There’d been several nights where he and his Slayers had been up until sunrise filling out countless pages of paperwork, finishing just in time for morning training. 

While he’d always loathed the reports, they were an excellent way of sorting out the minutiae of the encounter in his own mind, allowing him to pick apart the actions of his Dragon Slayers in detail.  Adjusting training accordingly and meeting out praise and punishment where required.  The very idea of simply walking away after a battle, even one as straightforward as this one was jarring to say the least. 

“A report?”  Allen was now the one confused as he studied the young soldier with interest.  “It’s nearly midnight.  Reports can wait until we’ve sorted this mess out.”  He motioned in the direction of the camp so that Dilandau wouldn’t think that he was implying that the operation had been a failure.  Granted, he was privately furious that his sibling had revealed his presence to the enemy, but he did have to admit that it had had a rather profound effect on the outcome of the battle.  “Tomorrow you can tell me about what you did here.  Until then relax, you’ve earned it.” 

It was almost amusing watching the confusion fill the teenagers face as he tried to wrap his mind around this informality.  Still, like any teenager, there was also an unmistakable gleam to his eye at the prospect of being able to avoid a tedious task in favour of something more pleasurable.

Sparing Allen another cautious look, just in case he chose to rescind the order to enjoy himself, Dilandau made a beeline towards the waiting Alseides, eager to have it loaded on the ship and begin a full diagnostic. 

Watching him go, Allen felt a swell of warmth inside him.  He felt as if he’d finally done something right with the youth.  There was a new lightness to the boy’s step which hadn’t been there previously and he hadn’t missed the brilliant smile which had graced that lovely pale face moments before he’d turned away.  Perhaps there was some hope for them after all.   Or, perhaps this was simply the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you all knew that at one point Dilandau was going to get a big toy to murder things with! Allen might be sort of overreaching in this whole trust thing don't you think?  
> Next chapter: celebrations, naughty acts and that slippery slope becomes a small avalanche.


	8. Awkward Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen curses his existence. Dilandau makes everyone's life difficult. Gaddes just sort of goes with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne though I do own a dvd and a VHS copy of the show... does that count for anything? No? damn. Don't sue me.
> 
>  
> 
> Sooo WARNINGS: There is a naughty scene here. *gasp* If you're offended, skip over the first bit though really, if you're offended why are you reading this? We have sexual situations and incest here as well as references to past naughtyness with various people. As usual, violence is always waving it's sword around

Allen hated the sight of the Alseides.  Compared to the sleek elegant shape of Scheherazade, it was bulky, ugly and lacked any sense of individuality.  The damn thing was little more than a killing machine with a nameless, faceless pilot acting as its brain. 

He’d fought half a hundred of the foul things during the war and unlike when dealing with classical guymelefs, he hadn’t known the face of a single one of his enemies… save one.   Yes, he’d loathed the very sight of that giant crimson monster and the knowledge of the destruction it brought in its wake, but at least he’d had a sense of a living breathing person inside it.  These mass produced … things were an abomination, and yet he’d allowed one of them onto his ship.

Even now, tools were neatly laid out on a table next to the slumbering giant in preparation for repairs which would take place in the morning.  Allen didn’t even recognize half of them and neither Katz nor Pyle, the crew’s resident mechanics had ever seen them before.  Dilandau had taken them from the camp along with coils of scavenged wiring and various detritus which he’d claimed was important.  It all looked like junk as far as the knight was concerned, but if it kept Dilandau calm and under control, he wasn’t going to offer too many objections.

“I hope he never gets you working.”  He found himself murmuring to the oblivious machine.  It felt petty saying it, but that didn’t make it any less true. 

Explaining Dilandau’s existence was going to be difficult enough as it was.  The idea of convincing King Aston why the Dragon Slayer captain wasn’t in chains likely impossible.  Making anyone sane understand why he’d seen fit to give an Alseides unit to the biggest mass murderer in the entire war was nothing short of madness.  Yet here he was doing it.  Worse, his crew weren’t offering anything more than the most token of objections.

Word had quickly spread of how it was Dilandau’s attack on the enemy unit which had saved their lives, leaving many of the men now treating the Zaibach warrior like a collective little brother.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been quite so passionate in his speeches about forgiveness and reconciliation towards their former enemy.  The teenager was still incredibly dangerous and volatile.  He didn’t want the crew to forget that and grow lax in their attention towards him.  Well, they’d remember quickly enough the first time one of them tried to ruffle their “little brother’s” hair or slap him on the back. 

Speaking of the men, a loud burst of raucous laughter made it all the way to the hangar, warning Allen that their liquor stores were likely going to be depleted after tonight.  Experience had taught him that few if any of his crew would be able to do more than blink blearily in the morning.  Performing their actual duties would be next to impossible for them.

Turning away from the vile guymelef, he strode down the narrow corridors of the ship, taking a roundabout route which took him by the brig.  Marcus and Pike were on duty and not looking at all pleased with this fact.  As two of the newest members of the crew; acquired after the war, they were often given the jobs no one wanted, and guard duty while the others drank certainly topped the list.

Both men quickly straightened to attention at the sight of him though and a quick glance told him that neither had been sneaking any alcohol behind his back.  He could only imagine the profanity ridden lecture Gaddes had given them as well as a detailed description of what had happened to the last prisoner someone had failed to guard.

“All’s quiet sir.”  Marcus stated with pride, grinning wide enough to reveal the missing eyetooth he’d lost on his first day on the crew.  “The prisoners were asking for water.  I hope it’s ok that we gave them a waterskin.  It didn’t seem important enough to bother you over.”

“Thank you.”  The knight nodded his head in agreement with their decision.  “Water should always be provided… within reason of course.  Make sure you get the canteen back however.”  It sounded paranoid, but who knew how industrious these soldiers might be.  He’d seen some rather creative ways to kill someone over the course of his life and he’d rather not have it expanded upon.

 “Have either of you seen Dilandau?”  It wasn’t that he was worried about his brother escaping the ship without an escort.  They were far too high in the air for him to leave, but it was always a good idea to have a general idea of where the next round of trouble was going to erupt.  He only hoped he wasn’t drinking with the crew.  From what he remembered, the boy was more than adept at drinking men much larger than himself under the table.

“Yeah, he came by about twenty minutes ago wanting to know where the ships showers were.”  Pike chimed in, clearly pleased to be of service. 

Well, that request was hardly surprising considering the youth had spent a good part of the night trudging through swamps.  Knowing how fastidious Dilandau was, he was honestly amazed that the boy had lasted this long before seeking out the washing facilities.

“Thank you.  I’ll be in my cabin if anyone requires me.  Make sure you’re relieved at dawn, and they’d better be sober.”  He added, fully aware that the two men would likely still be at their posts when he woke up.  Yes, Dilandau was right.  He really needed to crack down on the crew’s discipline.

Both men snapped him an unnecessary salute, earning a faint chuckle from the knight but he didn’t bother to correct them.  He’d spent the first two weeks they’d been on board trying to break them of the habit, but they’d insisted that as a war hero, he deserved the respectful gesture whether he wanted it or not.  Now it seemed to be more of a private joke between them.

At least that helped lighten his mood slightly as he headed to his cabin and slipped through the door, not even bothering with the light.  It had been a hideously long day… a long two days actually.  Jeture, was that all it had been?  How had his life turned so upside down in such a short time?

                Fingers deftly unfastened his heavy sword belt and he hung it with careful reverence on its stand.  This was followed by the buckles of his jacket, allowing him to shrug it from his shoulders and place it on its hook by the door with a familiarity which required no attention on his part.  Next he began to pull at the ties holding his shirt closed, kicking off his boots at the same time all while walking towards his bed. 

His left hand reached out, deftly snatching the goblet of water he always left on the small desk by the bed and he took a deep drink before closing his eyes and letting his head loll back.  Ten hours of sleep sounded like paradise right about now, though he knew that he’d be lucky to get five.  Still, it was nice to pretend, even if just for a moment.

Warm fingers reached out of the darkness and slid across his bared collarbone, the contact soft yet sure as they stroked elaborate and pleasurable patterns on his skin.  Allen was so tired, and the touch so familiar that he didn’t even startle at its unexpectedness.  Instead, he continued to stand there, drinking in the brief moment of sensation.

Fingers roughened with sword callouses traced along his nerves, teasing them to life, slowly sliding his loosened shirt off of his shoulders, allowing the cool air of the ship to contrast with the hot flesh.  It only lasted for a moment before a hot wet mouth latched onto a suddenly aching nipple, sparking it to almost painful life and making him gasp in pleasure.

A dexterous tongue teased the budding nub of flesh to rock hardness as liquid heat engulfed him, creating a circuit which went straight to his groin, causing him to gasp sharply.

How could anything feel so good?  His entire body seemed to quiver as post battle adrenaline surged along with his rising lust, creating a hot molten ball of desire in his loins.  He’d missed this feeling so much, the way his body burned, the feel of sort sharp nails scratching slowly down his back and the teasing hint of teeth amongst all that searing softness against his flesh.

Breathing in deeply, he smelled an interesting blend of hot flesh, sword oil and his own soap.  It was as intoxicating as the touches and he drew the heady mix into his lungs. 

A soft moan snuck past his lips as that cruel mouth released his tortured nipple, leaving it exposed to the cold air of the room.  Before he could even think of offering up a protest, that deliciously hot tongue slowly traveled its way up his chest and began to lazily explore the sensitive skin of his throat.  Lips as soft as flower petals tasted him, parting gently as a gentle breath blew over his now overheated flesh.  His skin pebbled delicately as he let his head loll back a little further, exposing his throat to the onslaught as his pulse quickened.

Those lips hungrily devoured him mercilessly, sharp teeth nipping playfully before tracing the area with gentle kisses, slowly working their way upwards and radiating dizzying promise.

The goblet fell to the floor forgotten as he reached out his hands to pull his lover closer, bending his head slightly to find those incredible lips and claim them as his own.  His fingers tangled in soft damp hair, pulling it gently and earning an appreciative moan in answer.

Lips parted, tongues battled for dominance and flames sizzled through them, igniting desires too long denied.  What with the war, the rebuilding, the guilt over his unacknowledged son and the return of his sister, the infamous womanizer had been positively chaste for longer than he cared to think about and his body eagerly seized the passion being so freely offered.  It felt so wonderful to finally let down his guard, to revel in the glorious feel of flesh pressing against his own and the sinuous interplay of hard muscles beneath silken skin.

_…his sister…_

Something niggled at his lust fogged brain as those clever hands slid lower, tracing along the edge of his trousers, deftly unfastening the light belt and buttons which held them shut.  That firm body, the flesh hot and fresh from a shower writhed gently against his own, every touch adding to his pleasure. 

Pausing for a moment for no reason other than delighting in his torment, those cruel calloused fingers broke away from their task to reach up and lightly pinch his aching nipple, pulling it teasingly and earning a tortured moan from the knight.   

A soft throaty chuckle was swallowed by his lips before those hands took pity on him, resuming their slow downward journey, tracing the path of supple muscles and building up torturous anticipation as they drew closer to their goal.  Oh how he wanted this.  Every cell in his body screamed for the release this touch promised so eloquently.  A gentle shift of that eager body, edging him towards the bed as the belt finally fell free, allowing the hand to slip deftly beneath the waistline and stroke his aching and engorged length.

_…He’d been caring for his sister…_

His voice was deep with desire as he moaned loudly, the sound hungrily devoured by that deliciously greedy mouth.  Lightning shot through his nerves at the touch of those searing lips and over sensitized skin turned molten.   Instinct overrode reason and his hips rocked forward, pressing his now freed length against his lover’s hand.  Those long skilled fingers stroked and squeezed him with expert skill, playfully allowing the pleasure to build inside him until it became almost a pain, wrenching a needy moan from his lips.  The rocking of his hips became more insistent as all the right places were touched, pleasure coaxed from his flesh until he was positive that his body was glowing with need.

Still the pleasure grew, threatening to spill forth from his body as if it was his first fumbling attempts at intimacy.  It made him wonder if he’d manage to last long enough to bury himself deeply inside that lithe form pressed against him, promising him the world if he only let go and indulged his desires.

The mouth tasted like vino and fire mixed together in an utterly perfect combination.  It had been so long since he’d tasted it…well over a year in fact.   Far too long as far as his body was concerned and in this moment, he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he’d ever denied himself this glorious pleasure.

Back arching, his hips thrusting forward, he pressed into that intoxicating touch as his mind supplied the memories of an alabaster pale body rocking above his, riding him mercilessly as silken flesh milked him of his passions over and over again.  He remembered the faint sheen of sweat making his lover glow in the moonlight like some wicked godling and shining crimson eyes stared at him through his memory, glassy in their passion, begging for more, demanding it.  That voracious hunger threatened to devour him; it always had and he’d welcomed that danger, feeling more alive in those moments than with any other lover.

His own fingers slid down his lover’s back, tracing along the lithe muscles, admiring how they flexed beneath his hand and how the heat seemed to radiate into his own flesh.  He stroked his fingertips past a slender waist until they reached smooth perfectly rounded flesh.  The body quivered against him, those searing lips moaning in desire, whispering his name breathlessly.  Eagerly he cupped those perfect cheeks, pressing that eager body tightly against his own, feeling the heat of their steel hard arousal grind into his hip.

_…His sister, crawling out of a guymelef the colour of blood, her blue eyes wide and confused…_

Long legs slid up the length of his thighs before hooking around his waist, seeking a better angle in order to press their hardened flesh together as his lover began to rock his hips in strong sensual motions.  They were moving in tandem now, causing the most incredible friction.  Allen’s head was swimming, his flesh was electric and nothing mattered beyond the sensation he was drowning in.

“Bed… now.”  The voice purred, husky and  insistent, pulling him closer while still managing those maddening motions of his hips, making it nearly impossible to form coherent thought despite that strange and growing niggling sense in the back of his mind.  Something was wrong… very wrong, but everything felt so right, felt so good…

_…Blue eyes staring at him, filled with utter trust and devotion, believing him to be an all-powerful protector.  Crimson eyes opening, shining and unguarded for only the briefest of moments, letting him see the desperately lonely soul within, trusting in him to save him…_

_…Dilandau… Celena… his sibling…_

“Dilandau!”  He gasped the name out loud, his body freezing in utter shock as his brain finally began to shake itself awake.

“Mmm, yesss.  Come to bed.  Let’s celebrate the way we used to.”  His voice was breathy and filled with the naked lust which had once made Allen burn with desire but now made him cringe right down to his core.  Had the lights been on, the knight knew that those eyes would be shining like molten rubies, seeming to glow against the alabaster whiteness of his flesh.

_Dilandau… Celena… his sibling…_

He couldn’t do this!

Despite the rather insistent protests of his body, he quickly released his intimate hold on the youth and took him by the shoulders, trying to push his would be seducer away.  Caught by surprise, Dilandau let out a somewhat undignified squawk of surprise, nearly falling over backwards as the movement left him off balance.

“We… we can’t do this!”

“What the hell Allen?”  He sounded more confused than annoyed, his purring voice still low and warm. 

With the faint starlight from the small cabin window, Allen could make out the shape of a slender arm reaching out for him, ready to pull him close once again and he hastened to back away.  Every nerve in his body screamed at his treachery and the room suddenly felt much colder than it had before he’d tasted that delicious warmth. 

“It can’t have been so long for you that you’ve forgotten what to do.”  Humour edged that lovely voice.  The gentle teasing urged him back despite his every instinct demanding that he leave the room and find the nearest cold shower.  “Here, let me remind you.”

Allen took another step back, not even daring to bat the reaching hand away, knowing that if he touched that heated flesh his body might actually overpower his mind and destroy what few scraps of honour he still had left.

“We can’t do this!”  He found himself saying as he struggled to tuck his protesting flesh back into his trousers.  It was proving to be a rather challenging ordeal but he refused to give in, or take his eyes off of the sleek naked form in front of him.  Dilandau looked as if he’d been carved from starlight, his skin shining with an inviting silver light, his body flawless perfection.  Jeture he was gorgeous, and utterly untouchable.

“What are you talking about?  Of course we can.  We’ve done it dozens of times and I don’t remember you having any problems.  In fact, you were rather adept in certain areas…”  That purr ate into his brain, threatening to short circuit his free will.

“Jeture’s sake Dilandau, you’re my brother!”  This time he heard a loud annoyed sigh and could make out Dilandau crossing his arms over his chest and likely giving him a look normally reserved for a suddenly inept Dragon Slayer.

“This again?  Honestly Allen, who cares?  I certainly don’t.  It’s not like there’s a risk of me getting pregnant or anything.”  There was a brief pause as Dilandau analyzed that statement, realizing his original biology and suddenly rethinking all of his past trysts in a new and somewhat worrisome light.  Had Allen not been on the verge of horrified panic, it might have been almost amusing.

Giving his head a little shake, in an attempt to banish that strange train of thought, the Dragon Slayer took another step towards Allen.

“Look, it’s been nearly a colour since I remember getting laid and by the look of you, I’d say far longer on your part. So forget about that sibling crap.   I just want to celebrate our victory, and this happens to be my favourite way.  It used to be your favourite way too.  Remember the sky pirates?  How about that overreaching Baron in Cesario?  You can’t forget that celebration, we knocked down the damn tent.”

Some traitorous part of himself remembered the pleasures and the debauchery they’d enjoyed.  Worse, he knew that if he gave in and acquiesced to Dilandau’s charms, the youth would likely stop fighting him so avidly.  He’d calm down, maybe even start becoming more like the brilliant young soldier Allen had met back in Astoria.  All it would cost him was his self-respect, his honour and the trust Dilandau had placed in him. 

He couldn’t do it.  The boy had been twisted, manipulated and controlled all of his life.  How was using sex any different than the Madoushi using pain and terror to get what they wanted?  It was still coercion, even if Dilandau was an enthusiastic participant. 

“I can’t.  It’s wrong on so many levels that I don’t even know where to start.  You’re my brother.  What happened between us in the past stays in the past.  Neither of us knew the truth, but we do now.”  The delicious glow was rapidly fading from his body, being replaced by a cold heavy weight and the ominous sense that the albino’s good mood was rapidly shifting for the worse.

“Fuck that!”  Dilandau hissed, stepping forward aggressively, causing Allen to back up in response.  Even though the youth was naked, he still radiated an impressive amount of raw aggression.  “You want me.  I want you.  It’s that simple.  What the hell is with you stuffy Astorians?  Your cock seems to know what it wants better than your damn brain.”  He waved a hand at Allen’s aching member and then swore softly as the man’s erection began to fade in front of their eyes.

Snarling and swearing heatedly, Dilandau turned away and grabbed his clothes which had been neatly folded by the bed.  With furious motions, he began to slip them on, nearly tearing several seams and not seeming to care at all.

“Screw this.  I’m not playing this stupid game.   I’ll find someone else to fuck and enjoy myself without you.”  He snarled, both men fully aware that as far as prospective lovers went, the crew provided rather slim pickings.  In his narcissism, Dilandau wouldn’t look twice at anyone who didn’t meet his high standards of appearance, and the crew was still far too wary to welcome the youth into their beds despite the new sense of comradery.  This was also helped by the fact that they all knew fully well how protective Allen was of his sibling.  Anyone daring to take advantage of the youth would face his wrath.

It took surprisingly little time for Dilandau to get dressed and in mere moments he was storming out of the cabin, taking no small amount of satisfaction in being able to slam the door.  The Vionne’s doors had all been automated, stealing away that tiny childish pleasure.

Allen stood there staring at the door, feeling nauseous over what had just happened… and what had almost happened.  Jeture… he was cursed.  That had to be it. 

 

*****************

 

Gaddes was feeling pretty damn blessed tonight.  So much so that he practically skipped down the hallway of the ship, singing a half remembered tavern song under his breath.  The world was a perfect place at this moment and he fully intended to revel in it.  His ego was warmed by victory, his stomach full of food and his soul bolstered by many, many mugs of alcohol.

“One day I was ridin’ along the river bank, I spied my dear ol’ captain an he was givin’ himself a wank.  I saw what he was wearing, he was dressed up in a frock.  And when he saw me starin’ his hand slipped off his cock.  Ooooo- oh.”  He paused in mid chorus as he heard the rather unmistakable sounds of someone working in the hangar.  Normally this wouldn’t raise so much as an eyebrow from the second in command, but he knew for a fact that no one was in any shape to so much as stand let alone try to work with heavy tools. 

Eager to do his part in preventing catastrophic accidents from happening anywhere near the Boss’ beloved Scheherazade, the dutiful second in command spun on his heel, altering his course to the hangar bay and froze at the door.

Dilandau was inside, working at the feet of the new Alseides and hammering at some piece of metal as if it had insulted him on a personal level.  The kid had obviously been here for some time as his jacket was resting neatly on a nearby crate and his shirt was soaked through with sweat.   Silver hair hung in damp strands, kept out of his face by the welding goggles rather than that “oh so familiar” diadem.

Tools littered the table around him and a thing that looked vaguely like a welding torch lay too near at hand for Gaddes to feel entirely comfortable about approaching.  Instead, he stood by the door, watching silently as the youth hammered the metal into shape with impressive vigor, especially considering he’d been running through swamps and fighting all night.  Did this kid not rest?  Still, there was a look to those crimson eyes which warned that sleep was probably the last thing on his mind.

It was obvious that the kid knew he was there, but he wasn’t acknowledging him, preferring to stay focussed on his task as he put the hammer down then pulled out some strange tool which looked more like some melef torture device than anything and began to… possibly take measurements?  It was hard for Gaddes to tell.

“It’s part of the flight mechanism.”  The usually smooth purring voice was harsh and cold, capable of sending lesser men running for their lives.  Believing firmly that he wasn’t a lesser man, Gaddes took this as an invitation to enter the hangar, albeit cautiously and approached the teenager.

“You mean that monster can fly?”

“That’s usually what a flight mechanism entails, yes.”  Opening his mouth, ready to retort with an insult, Gaddes realized that his question had been more than a little stupid and he’d likely deserved the snark.  Still, the idea of the kid zipping around in his little war machine like the “good old days” was more than a little… mind numbingly terrifying.  “The other units were basic models, not worth my time.  This one is a captain’s melef.  Its systems are somewhat superior.  Not up to the level of the Oreades or even my original Alseides, but it’s better than the buckets you people insist on stomping around in.”

“How did you learn how to fix something like that?  I mean, that can’t be easy.”  He resisted the urge to take a step back as a molten glare was aimed in his direction.  “I’m not insulting you or calling you stupid.  I ain’t suicidal.  What I mean is that most pilots I know wouldn’t bother learning something that complex.  They leave that to their mechanics.”

Those eyes bore into his for a long moment before Dilandau turned back to his work.

“Most wouldn’t know.  Even in the Empire, most pilots expect their guymelefs to just work on command.  I was trained to be as self-sufficient as possible no matter the situation.”

“What happened if you weren’t?” 

“I’d die.”  He said it with such lack of inflection that Gaddes felt a chill travel up his spine.  He didn’t doubt those claims any more than he doubted the kid’s claims at combat mastery.  Something told him that Dilandau had seen a lot of people die around him.

“You’re meaning during the war right?  They didn’t do that sort of thing to you in training… right?”

“What part of ruthless empire are you failing to understand?”  Those cold eyes glanced over at him before returning to the task at hand.  For several minutes, Dilandau wrote down various calculations or measurements… hell, he could have been writing down poetry for all Gaddes knew.  Zaibach’s written language was nearly impossible to decipher to anyone not raised in that country.  It looked more like mystical symbols than words to him.

“I received specialist training every day of my life once the Madoushi released me.  There were several of us in the beginning.  I was the only one to survive, so yes, I made it a point to learn everything I could from anyone who would teach me.  When I couldn’t find a teacher, I’d try to teach myself.”  He shrugged as if it wasn’t any great feat though Gaddes could hear the deep pride in his voice at his accomplishments.

“Folken designed the Alseides units for the Empire.  It only made sense that I’d learn about them and he was all too happy to teach me.  I’m far from an expert mechanic, but I’m sure that I can fix this mechanism so long as there aren’t any big surprises hidden inside.  There was some damage to the legs, mostly superficial, but this got warped and will keep jamming whenever the pilot tries to go into flight mode.” 

Straightening up, Dilandau looked up at the Alseides, studying it with a critical eye, though Gaddes could see the fires smoldering inside their depths.  “It needs some new wiring and the energist is pretty much degraded.  I had to reroute everything through its homing system.  That’s a backup Folken installed in case any pilot of rank was incapacitated but the unit was still viable.  It would take off and bring itself to its floating fortress.”  He smirked slightly and reached out a hand, running his fingers along the cold metal of the machine’s leg.  There was no point in explaining what happened if the machine was no longer viable.  Gaddes had seen the unnatural blue flames which had engulfed the Dragon Slayers, turning their guymelefs into their tombs.  There’d been nothing left but slag with melted stone beneath.

“I just changed a few things so that rather than wasting my time trying to get it to fly, I could power the crima enough to make a sword and give myself a few minutes of fighting power.  Anything more would have risked a meltdown” 

“Impressive.”

“Not really.  I’d have done almost anything to get the chance to pilot again.  Besides, if I ran out of power, at least I’d have died in battle, even if it was against pathetic opponents.”  He shrugged as if the end of his life wasn’t of much consequence to him.  It was jarring to see this, especially after he’d seen how fierce the young captains will to live had been during the war.  He’d seen reality warp around the teenager, everything from the shades of his dead soldiers rising up to protect him, to being the only person other than Hitomi herself to vanish into a pillar of light.  Going from that to simply seeing it as inevitable… even welcomed was sickening.

“You really shouldn’t be in such a hurry to die.”  It still felt strange to say this to one of the few people he’d wished death upon repeatedly over the course of the war.

“Why not?”  Dilandau countered.  “I don’t belong here.  It seems that I never did. I’m living a stolen life. My men are dead, my Empire lost, the Madoushi…”  He bit his lip and looked back at his work, breathing deeply in order to keep control over his temper.  “How would you feel if you woke up one day and found out that you were nothing but a parasite.  I’d been told that I was perfect.  The perfect warrior.  Deadly, beautiful and uncompromising… but I’m really just some sick experiment.”  Another slow deep breath, then a second.  Tonight he’d seen the revulsion in Allen’s eyes and knew it to be true.  Had his precious Slayers lived, would they have turned him away as well?  They’d worshipped him with all their heart’s, crossed the boundaries between life and death to save him… but who could love a freak?  Ugh, he hated self-pity!

Angry again, he grabbed another piece of metal and began to beat it senseless with the heavy hammer.  This one was nothing more than scrap, he would destroy it as he pleased. 

“I knew they’d done something to me.”  He continued, snarling in between hammer strikes.  “It was hard not to, even if I couldn’t remember much about whenever they took me.  I’d just always figured that they were making me stronger… tougher… things like that.  I never thought…”  His voice caught for a second and he had to swallow several times to regain control over himself.

“It doesn’t matter.  I’ll get this unit working.  That’s what matters now.”  Gaddes didn’t bother asking what the kid intended to do with it once it was operational.  He had a good idea and it mostly involved that thing flying into what was left of the Zaibach Empire and burning it all to the ground.  It made him remember that earlier conversation with Katz where he’d mentioned the boy’s undying loyalty to his masters.  Perhaps he’d been a tad assumptive.  Revenge meant more to him than anything and he was willing to destroy any and everything to get it.

Gaddes stared for a long minute, watching the victim of Fate that he’d once thought was a heartless monster.  There had to be a way to distract him from this rage, to remind him of why living was so much more important than killing everything between himself and his goal.

“Tell me about them?”  Pausing, Dilandau glanced over at him, unsure as to what he was talking about.  “Tell me about your Slayers?”  Gaddes smiled tentatively, hoping that he’d hit on the right strategy.  It was odd really now that he thought about it.  Everyone knew that his men had been the most precious thing to the young captain, but no one ever really acknowledged them.  No one wanted to hear anything that might humanize the little murderers because in doing so, they’d all realize that the Dragon Slayers had been nothing more than children just as trapped by the war as everyone else.

“Why do you want to know about them?”  Those eyes narrowed suspiciously but the older man’s smile stayed fixed on his face, easy and relaxed.

“They meant a lot to you but we don’t know anything about them.”  He replied honestly.  “You don’t have anyone to talk to about them right?  So tell me.  What were they like?”  Dilandau continued to study him, trying to figure out what the man’s angle was.  His Slayers were long dead, knowing about them wouldn’t be considered classified, especially with the dissolution of the Empire but he was also well aware that one could tell a lot about a leader by the type of men they surrounded themselves with.  Still, he ached with the desire to share in the memories of his friends, even if it was with some cocky half Fanelian mongrel.

Gently placing the hammer back in its place with the other tools, he leaned on the table, closing his eyes as he recalled the faces of his men.  Brave, beautiful and deadly.  They’d been poster children for the war effort, their faces decorating more placards than even he with his massive ego cared to think about.

“They were so proud to be part of my unit.”  He finally said in a voice as soft as it was warm.  “Most of them were war orphans with no prospects.  They’d been picked out of the government schools and enrolled in the academy due to their excellent scores and each one was desperate to prove themselves against their peers.”  A faint smile graced his lips as he remembered his first sight of them in the demonstrations.  “They were all so nervous of screwing up in front of me, convinced that any mistake would cost them their one big chance.  Shesta’s hand was shaking so badly that he actually dropped his sword when he’d bowed to me.  I was so disgusted that I was about to dismiss the little fool for wasting my time.  For a second, I actually thought he was going to cry right in front of me, then, he squared his shoulders, looked me in the eye and outright demanded a chance to redeem himself.” 

Dilandau’s smile turned into a wide grin as he remembered the brave would-be soldier who had gone from a cringing child to a little dragon in a matter of moments.  “He then went on to soundly defeat his next three opponents in short order.  It was impressive to watch that level of ruthless efficiency and I was sure that if I’d given the order to kill them, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do so.

“He was one of the only Slayers who ever stood up to me when I was in a mood.  It rarely ended well for him of course, but he kept doing it.  The others all thought he was crazy, but I rather admired him for it.  It also didn’t hurt that he was rather good with a blade.  Granted, Schezar still disarmed him embarrassingly quickly.  Ugh, I nearly broke his damn jaw when I heard about that debacle.  Granted, having the balls to fight that bastard is what kept him out of the medbay after that spectacular loss.”  Dilandau’s lips pulled back from his teeth as he remembered that disastrous day and his right hand rose up to idly stroke his scar.  The gesture was so habitual that he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Shesta loved to read.”  He continued, his fingers moving away from the marred skin, picking up a few small pieces of metal and a stiff wire brush.  Handing them to Gaddes, he made it clear that if the man wanted to listen to stories, he’d damn well better work for the honour.  “The others teased him about it sometimes and I always reprimanded him when I caught him with books that were just silly trash.  They’d always be confiscated but somehow he’d always smuggle more into the barracks.  The others helped him hide the damn things from me because he’d read to them after lights out.”

Pausing for a moment, Dilandau gathered up some wires and began to measure them carefully, checking the sheet with the illegible writing several times, making Gaddes believe that they were calculations of some sort. 

“He was also phenomenal in bed.”  There was a playful glint in those crimson eyes, daring Gaddes to make some disapproving comment about fraternizing with ones soldiers.  He knew all too well about Astoria’s priggish nature regarding the amorous activities of their soldiers.  Allen had been positively neurotic about it to the point that on their joint assignments, the other Zaibach soldiers had covered for them from his superiors.  They’d found the entire debacle to be hilarious.  Dilandau had simply found it to be annoying.

“Not something I needed to know.”  Gaddes muttered, struggling to keep from chuckling as he knew damn well that Dilandau had only brought it up to tease him.

“I mean it.  He was like a little bull, determined to impress me even if he had to break me in half to do it.”  This time Gaddes did make a choking sound, nearly skinning his fingers as the stiff brush slipped off the metal.  He looked over at the albino in surprise at the little revelation.

“You mean he… you let him…”  Dilandau smiled with overly sweet patience, enjoying the older man’s innocence. 

“I let him fuck me?  Yes.”  His smile grew a tad taunting and he leaned across the table slightly, his voice dropping to a low purr.  “There’s no shame in it so long as everyone enjoys themselves, but don’t mistake my preferences for submission.  I submit to no man.  Just ask Allen.”

“Yeah… too much information there.”  Gaddes quickly regained his mental footing, more than a little surprised at this discovery.  Still, he was pleased that the youth was speaking so candidly with him.  He was acting almost like a person.  Granted a person with a disturbing amount of worldly experience for a sixteen year old, but it was better than him being nothing more than a living weapon.

“You didn’t sleep with all of them did you?  The other night you made it sound like you did.”  Why the hell was he asking this?  It’s not like he wanted to know, but … alright, he was curious.  It’s not like he’d ever thought that he’d be sitting with the Dragon Slayer captain, discussing the kid’s sex life.

Dilandau actually laughed at the question.  It wasn’t that mad cackle of his which never failed to make Gaddes’ skin crawl.  This was a genuine laugh of open amusement and the smile which accompanied it was playful to the point of possibly being friendly.

“I had fifteen Dragon Slayers.  If I was fucking them all I’d have never been able to sit down let alone fight.”  He paused to snicker softly.  “No, even my libido has limits.  I slept with three of them regularly and had occasional relations with four others.  The rest preferred women and despite what you likely think of me, I was not about to force any of my men into my bed.”

“Actually I never thought that of you.  You couldn’t achieve that level of loyalty if you were using them as your own personal toys.  Sure, I don’t really agree with the whole “sleeping with your subordinates” thing, but different cultures and all that.”  Gaddes shrugged, watching Dilandau’s shoulders lower as he relaxed from the perceived insult. 

“It’s not like it doesn’t happen in Astoria’s army.  We were just open about it.  Besides, you put men and women together under stress and they’re bound to have sex.  So long as none of them got pregnant everyone was fine with the arrangement.  Besides, anyone who was looking to breed or was simply too stupid to keep it from happening stayed home.  For the most part, it was easier to just stick with your own gender for trysts.  That way there was no risk of a dishonorable discharge.”  Dilandau spoke of concepts which blew the older man’s mind as if it were nothing of import, leaving him gaping for several seconds.

“I’d heard that Zaibach had women warriors… I mean, we’d joke about it, but until those two cat sisters showed up, we’d never seen any.  How in Jeture’s name did that work?”  Gaddes had seen the struggles Millerna had gone through just to study medicine, the thought of any woman willingly picking up a sword for any reason other than to defend her children was almost unthinkable. 

“Half the population is female.  Why would we refuse them the right to fight for our Empire?  Female orphans were conscripted just the same as the males, it would be stupid not to.  There were many in the army, from the regular grunts to guymelef pilots.  Hell, my own chief mechanic was a woman and even I didn’t give her shit.  You lot simply couldn’t tell them from the men because of the standard full body armour.  Honestly, were you expecting us to give their armour breasts and long hair?  Don’t even get me started on the Teiring melefs.  Stupidest design I’d ever seen and I told Folken that repeatedly though damn those cats could fight. 

“Astoria and the other nations are idiots for thinking that women are nothing more than portable wombs… and I am not saying that because of what I was.  Ugh.”  He gave a small shudder of disgust at the thought of how he must have lived for those colours when Celena had been controlling the body.  “You’re making a nation of victims rather than one of warriors.”

“Hmph, clearly you haven’t dealt with enough Astorian women if you think that they’re nothing but victims.”

“You forget that I’ve been to your Kings court.  I’ve seen plenty of those simpering living dolls.  I swear that if I find out that Allen turned Celena into that, I’ll burn that bastard’s hair off.”

“Soooo about those Dragon Slayers of yours?”  Gaddes did his best to head off that conversational tangent before the kid realized that that was exactly what Allen had done.  Still, the idea of an army of women… Gaddes didn’t know whether to be worried or incredibly turned on by that prospect. 

Dilandau fixed him with another suspicious look before resuming his previous topic, allowing the older man a reprieve.

“Gatti was my second in command and next to me was the best pilot in our unit.  His whole family had been military for generations and he was simply the latest in that unbroken chain.  It made him always act so serious that several of the men honestly believed that if he smiled, his face would crack.  When they got bored, several of them would try to prank him, just to see if they could break his composure, but nothing rattled him.  He could stand there and read a missive from General Adelphos dressing me down and not bat an eye.  He was rather like a mini Folken in that regard.  Hell, I’m pretty sure Folken smiled more than Gatti did. 

“That didn’t mean he didn’t have a sense of humour though.  The guy was a conversational sniper.  He’d just peg you with the most perfect insult right when you weren’t expecting it.  Even me, the suicidal bastard.” 

Dilandau grinned as he said it, openly admiring the foolhardy bravery of his friend.  Gatti had never hesitated to say what needed to be said and the young captain had often gotten into rather impressive shouting matches with him in the privacy of his cabin.  Granted, the Slayer had known exactly just how far to push the volatile captain and when to back off and beg for forgiveness. 

He had been Dilandau’s best friend, or the closest he’d ever come to recognizing someone in that capacity and had often been invited to share the odd glass of wine in the evening as they poured over tactical reports. 

“Miguel… Miguel was beautiful and arrogant but utterly fearless and loyal.  He could recite the names and details of any battle that Zaibach had ever taken part in and made sure that all of us knew that he knew it.  He cheated at cards like you wouldn’t believe and always looked so honestly insulted when he was caught at it.   I actually had to break up several fights between him and the rank and file soldiers before I finally banned him from joining in any games on the Vionne.

Still, you couldn’t find a more loyal man.  There was one time when we were on loan to Silver army under General Peitre and I’m still convinced that the bastard was trying to get us killed.  His prize unit was called Horizon and they hated us with a passion because we kept stealing the spotlight from them anytime we went out on assignment.  Anyway, Horizon was supposed to back us up on this particular mission which stank like a Fanelian privy at high noon.  We’d done a little preliminary scouting and were convinced that there was going to be an ambush.  I’d ordered us to wait and gather more information… Stop smirking.  I don’t always jump in head first.” 

Dilandau grinned at Gaddes and flicked some bits of wire scraps at him.

“Long story short, I was right and it was a trap, Horizon hung back so that we’d spring it.  Dallet got separated from the group during some of the resulting explosions and a well-timed rockslide.  His unit took some heavy damage and couldn’t fly.  The Cesario guymelefs were closing in and we could all hear Dallet yelling at us to leave him and attack from above.  Before I could send anyone in, Miguel had screamed like a wild animal and charged the enemy.  He took down four melefs in moments, clearing the way for us and he even took a sword to his cockpit by jumping in between Dallet and the Cesario commander’s melef.  It tore a pretty good chunk out of his side and nearly killed him.  He was unconscious for nearly two weeks.”  The smile faded as the teenager remembered how worried he’d been.  Sure he’d seen countless deaths before, but never someone under his own command.  Both Dallet and Miguel had been under his protection and he’d almost lost them both that day. 

It was one of the battles that Dilandau himself didn’t remember overly well but his men had later told him that he’d gone berserk, tearing his way through the enemy melefs as if they were paper, keeping them away from his injured Slayers until not a single enemy was left standing on the battlefield.  Had Horizon squad still been there, he’d likely have attacked them as well.

“I punched General Peitre in the face and was nearly court-martialled for it.  Broke the bastard’s nose and knocked out two teeth.  It was the most satisfying punch I’d ever given and worth every bit of punishment I received.”  Memories flickered behind his eyes of the whip tearing into his back as he bit down on the leather wrapped stick to keep from screaming.  General Adelphos had done what he could to lessen the punishment for his prize captain, but even he could only do so much when the attack had been so public.  Twenty lashes had laid open his back while everyone watched his pain, waiting for him to break. 

He’d endured the agony and the humiliation, turning his suffering into a victory as Silver Army saw the strength of Copper’s elite.  They all knew about the fight, how Horizon had been ordered to pull back, leaving them in danger and how the Dragon Slayers had still emerged victorious against overwhelming odds. 

Those detractors who’d laughed behind their backs, calling them nothing but pretty boys playing at being soldiers didn’t laugh anymore.  They certainly walked more cautiously after Horizon squad met with an “unfortunate” accident on a long range scouting mission.  There had been no survivors and Dilandau had considered it to be a rather satisfying first field test of their new stealth mantles. 

“Miguel… He’s the one we caught in Fried wasn’t he?”  Gaddes asked softly then winced as he remembered that the boy had been killed during his escape attempt.  Strangled and left in a storage shed. 

The satisfied smirk on Dilandau’s face faded instantly and he nodded his head.

“A doppelganger killed him.  He said that Miguel was too much of a liability to rescue.  The bastard.”  Slender fingers curled slowly into a fist and Dilandau stared at his hand in fascination for a moment.  “I crushed him slowly and listened to him scream.  It felt so good to hear his bones break and I imagined that I could feel his blood running over my fingers.”  That mad glint had returned to his eyes as he recalled that horrific betrayal of trust.  Folken had said to let him handle it, that he’d get Miguel out of enemy hands.  Dilandau had been foolish enough to believe him.  Oh what he’d give to have a chance to bestow the same fate on that damned Strategos.  Bloody Madoushi, always ruining everything in his life.

“Miguel had the most beautiful smile…”  He murmured softly almost to himself before suddenly becoming uncomfortable with the conversation and realizing just how much he was revealing.  Turning away, he focussed on measuring the last of his wires in preparation for tomorrow.  Dammit, he was getting soft.

“Shouldn’t you be drinking or sleeping or whatever it is you people do?”  Gaddes smiled to himself at the abrupt conversational shift and sudden bristliness of his companion.  It didn’t matter that he was now being rebuffed; Dilandau had opened up a little to him, shared precious memories.  From what he’d heard, that couldn’t have been an easy thing to do.  Did Allen have any idea how brutal a life his sibling had lived?  Honestly it was a miracle that he’d shared as much as he had and the older man knew better than to push it.  Wolves weren’t tamed overnight after all.

“I probably should be.” He admitted candidly, somewhat shocked to realize that he was actually enjoying the conversation far more than he’d thought he would.  “We’re supposed to be up in a couple of hours but I figure that everyone else will be dead on their feet, so I might as well go with the flow.  Besides, you don’t look like you’ll be heading off to bed anytime soon.”  He grinned at the young soldier, allowing just the faintest traces of playful challenge to enter into his voice.  As expected, it quickly drew the kid out of his sudden sullen sulk as his challenge was met with a toothy smile.

“I can get by just fine on minimal sleep old man.  Besides, my _beloved brother_ hasn’t seen fit to assign me a bunk and I’m not about to sleep here in the hangar like some animal.”  His words dripped with enough venom to drop a land dragon and Gaddes had to fight to keep from slapping his palm into his forehead. 

Silently he cursed his best friend for overlooking that small detail, though technically, it was his own job to make sure things on the ship ran smoothly.  They’d all just been so busy running around after bad guys that sleeping arrangements had sort of fallen through the cracks.  Well, that was simple enough to fix.

“You can sleep in my cabin.”  He said with a shrug even as part of his brain gave a little girlish shriek of horror at the very concept of offering to sleep in the same room as the notorious soldier.  At this rate, he’d likely wake up dead one morning.

Noticing the elegantly raised silver eyebrow, Gaddes quickly realized how that must have sounded to the kid and he quickly sputtered out an explanation before he dug himself in too deep and gave the brat any ideas.

“I share with Kio but we can fit a cot in there until I can get something worked out.  It’s either that or we have you bunk with the men, but I don’t see that going overly well.”  Yeah, that would be a recipe for outright mutiny and he honestly wasn’t sure who would lead it; the crew or Dilandau himself.  Jeture, explaining this arrangement to Kio would be difficult enough.

The kid simply gave him a curt nod and pushed away from the table, heading towards the middle of the hangar where there was a large open area.  Gaddes watched him move, unsure as to what he was up to now and that curiosity was peaked when crimson eyes turned to regard him with a look of mild irritation.

“Well?”

“Well what?”  The kid clearly wasn’t going off in search of his new quarters.  He was just standing there and giving his arms a few quick stretches, limbering up the already warm muscles.  That rising sense of dread was back as he had an inkling of what might now be expected of him.

“If you’re going to insist on bothering me then you’re going to help me exercise.  I’m not willing to lose my edge just because Schezar runs a lazy ship.”  Those crimson eyes drifted lower, making Gaddes colour slightly as he realized that the teenager wasn’t checking him out, he was eyeing his stomach critically.  “Your armour had been loosened recently.”  Nope, Gaddes did not want to think about the fact that the kid had taken the time to examine his armour.  That was several levels of creepy and really just gave that internal shriek more fodder than it needed. 

“Victory has that effect on a person.  Your side wouldn’t know that.”  He shot back defensively before his brain could shut his damn mouth.  Thankfully, Dilandau simply cocked his head to the side slightly.

“True enough, but you might not want to bring that up just as you’re about to spar with me.  Rumour has it that I have a bad temper.”

“Rumour also has it that you painted your Alseides with the blood of Fanelian babies and wove the hair of their mothers to make your stealth mantle.”  Dilandau actually laughed at that and drew his sword in one smooth elegant movement.  He didn’t seem insulted in the least, in fact, quite the opposite.

“Well that’s hardly true.  I can’t weave to save my life.  That was Folken, he was a grand fan of needlework.”

“Oh is that so?  I suppose you also didn’t violate the virgins at the Temple of Drammali in Freid either?”

“Hey those so called “virgins” were fifty year old crones.  They took one look at us and I thought we were going to be eaten alive.  Dallet and Guimel had nightmares for weeks over that.”  Dilandau gave a mock shudder, his grin growing wide.  “Now pick up a sword old man so I can show you how a real warrior fights.”

Enjoying the exchange of insults, Gaddes did as asked, drawing his own blade and adopting a comfortable stance as he faced his opponent.

“So, is it true what your crew said?  That once you got so drunk that you tried to seduce a statue in town square?”  The albino decided to chime in on the game of insulting rumours.  They both had plenty of fodder after all, especially if the kid had been drinking with the crew tonight.  Damned gossips.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?”

“That’s how it’s going to be.  I also notice that you’re not denying this claim.”  Dilandau offered a simple thrust which Gaddes parried with a minute flick of his blade, rolling his wrist slightly to turn the edge aside before stepping forward with a slash at the kid’s throat.  As expected, Dilandau moved to counter, angling his blade so that the attack was turned aside and he continued the momentum, turning it into an angled slash downward. 

Their attacks weren’t done with any lethal intent; it was little more than a dance as they each toyed with each other, taking their measure.  Neither was in a hurry to move in for the kill.

“And you never punched out that guy with the oddly coloured nose for trying to point out that your lovely paramour was in fact made of stone?”

“Hey, Pyle insulted my woman!  Chivalry demanded that I respond in her defense.”

“Oh of course.  I hope she rewarded you appropriately.”  They exchanged another flurry of blows, this time a little harder and faster, making Gaddes have to strain against the onslaught as their blades clashed together.  Damn the kid was stronger than he looked.  It had to be a side effect of all that fate tinkering the Madoushi had done to him, not that Gaddes himself was perhaps a tad out of shape.  “Your center is off Fanelian.”  Dilandau chided teasingly.  “It makes you weak.”

Allen had often tried to explain that to him, but as far as Gaddes was concerned, the whole concept sounded more than a little mystical.  Not that he doubted its validity, he’d seen Allen take down men far larger than himself with barely any effort at all, but the idea still eluded him.

“Yeah?  Well we’re not all perfect little warrior are we?”  Perhaps that came off a tad snider than he’d intended.  Apparently Dilandau thought so as well because he suddenly twisted his hips, unlocking their blades from each other and driving the pommel of his sword into Gaddes’ jaw.  Stunned, he left himself open and received a jarring kick to his stomach which sent him staggering back several feet.  Before he could recover, the tip of his opponent’s sword was placed at his throat.

“That’s hardly an excuse.  It’s a simple concept and one which could very well mean the difference between life and death.”

“You’re going to teach me how to fight better?  No offense intended, but that doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

“Think of it as me proving that I can do what Schezar clearly failed at.”

“You have an unhealthy sense of competition, you know that right?”

“Shut up and get back into position.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that Dilandau is being a moody little teenager and radiating angst by the bucketfull but really, the kid's had a rough time. Don't worry, he'll be pushing his woe is me's aside for a while in favour of some good old fashioned violence soon enough.
> 
> The dirty song Gaddes is singing is called "Ghost Riders in the sky" Not sure who wrote it.


	9. Gaddes doesn't get paid enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen has trouble coming to terms with things and things begin to heat up as others begin to take note of their situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. Not Vision of Escaflowne, not the characters, nothing. Don't sue me, I just finished adulting with all my bills and have no money.  
> Sooo, that was fun, Windows 10 decided to be an ass and wipe some changes I'd made to the last chapter just before posting and then took out this one altogether. Thankfully I hadn't gotten too far into it, but I'd really liked what I'd had. On the up side, I like the changes I made. On the down side, some characters decided to be stubborn and change my plans for them. I'm looking at you Dilandau, you brat!

The room was silent save for the ticking of a single ornate clock in the corner, the edges of the face slightly singed from the original attack which had razed the town.  Someone had taken the time to clear off much of the damage, repair it and place it in the Reeve’s office as some sort of symbol of rebuilding.

In Allen’s mind, they should have just repaired the bathhouse instead.  It would have served the village better.  After three hours in this room sorting through inventory lists of crops needed for war depleted winter stores not to mention the near endless list of building material needed to make most of the homes in the village habitable, he was pretty sure that damn clock was mocking him. 

It had been two weeks since the attack.  Two weeks since his world turned itself on his head and seemed to be hell bent on driving him insane.  The worst thing was that he knew exactly where that source of insanity originated from, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

At least after that first disastrous night, Dilandau hadn’t tried to seduce him again, though part of that could simply be the fact that the knight ensured that they were never alone in the same room together.  Instead, the teenager had embarked on a quest to be as irritating, arrogant and belligerent as possible without actually crossing over that line of full on insubordination.  It kept Allen constantly on edge though it served to amuse the crew immensely.

Oh he never did anything directly.  That would be too easy.  Instead, he’d taken over training of the crew, challenging them all to sparring matches similar to the one Allen had broken up previously.  One after another, they’d fight his little brother and one after another, they’d fall.  Still, the men seemed to enjoy it and paraded their bruises around with pride, often comparing them with each other.  To date, none of them had bested the boy.

Then there was that hulking monstrosity of a guimelef.  When Dilandau wasn’t shadowing the crew and learning about the ship, or organizing violent mobs, he was working on the thing.  He’d even gone so far as to attempt to explain several of the systems to Katz and Pyle, though the two were often left scratching their heads and shrugging.

Allen wasn’t sure how far along the repairs were going on the war machine but he was rather sure that despite his orders to the contrary, Dilandau had fixed the flame thrower module and was simply saving it as a fun surprise for everyone.

Since that battle against the Zaibach soldiers, the young Dragon Slayer captain seemed to have become a sort of mascot for the crew.  Oh there were still arguments, the odd thrown tool and some plants with strong laxative properties put into the stew one night when Dilandau conveniently decided to skip a meal, but on the whole, they were all getting along remarkably well.  Most surprising was Gaddes who seemed to have taken the youth under his wing, keeping an eye on him for Allen and ensuring that any trouble he caused never escalated beyond the level of mildly dangerous. 

From Gaddes, he learned that the teenager still suffered from terrible nightmares which left him screaming and thrashing on his cot, often driving Kio to simply drag his blankets and pillow to the ships bridge.  It tore Allen apart to know that his sibling was suffering, but he dreaded what might happen if he tried to offer comfort.  Guilt still weighed heavily on him over how close he’d nearly come to giving into his little brothers seductions.  It had been too close for comfort and they could never open themselves to such a risk of dishonour again.  Besides, he rather doubted that Dilandau honestly wanted the knight to see him so vulnerable.

“Sir Allen?”  The timid voice of the reeve broke into his reverie, causing him to look over towards the door.  He had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t the first time the man had called out his name.

Seeing that he now had the knight’s attention, the reeve bowed his head deeply; fearful of upsetting the man who he knew was still furious with him for failing to mention the nearby bandits.  Not that he could blame the blonde warrior; everyone in the village knew what had happened to his poor sister.  Rumour had it that she was hiding within the ship, refusing to see anyone save for her brother, her mind broken by her assault.

Cold blue eyes stared at the man, silently demanding why he’d dared to interrupt important work, but before the reeve could speak, a tall thin man in travel stained leathers strode past him and into the room.

“Sir Allen Schezar.” The newcomer proclaimed boldly, clearly not caring for propriety or the sanctity of one’s office.  “I am Palos of house Varinth and I come bearing a message for you.”  He clearly expected to have his name recognized and his importance acknowledged, however those blue eyes simply narrowed, irritation glittering in their depths. 

The silence left the young man somewhat off balance and he hastened to fill it and regain his perceived upper hand. 

Reaching around his back, he pulled a sky blue satchel free, holding it up for the knight and the reeve to see.  A stylized water dragon arched elegantly on the dyed leather, proclaiming the man to be a messenger of the court, granted access on all roads and villages.  His messages were always of the utmost import, capable of raising men to great social status, or stripping them of all they held dear depending on the whims of the Crown.  It was a heady power and one he enjoyed immensely.

Still, the knight failed to look impressed.  Instead of leaping to his feet and offering Palos a fine vintage of wine as most men often did upon seeing his important bag, the knight simply looked back at the sheaf of papers in his hand, took a moment to jot down a few quick notes and then gently placed them on the pile in front of him.

“You must have travelled far indeed to have so completely forgotten your manners young Palos of house Varinth.”  The Knight of Caeli replied in cool even tones.  “One does not simply barge into an office no matter what colour or emblems adorn ones bag.  A gentleman always waits to be announced.  In doing this, you have dishonoured the good reeve in his own home for not allowing him to so much as offer you hospitality.”

Palos blanched at the sheer nerve of the man to chastise him as if he were nothing more than an errant child rather than a messenger of the Court of Palas itself.  Behind him, the reeve shot Allen a thankful look, pleased that the knight was not blaming him for this gross breach of etiquette.

“You are clearly fresh from the road Palos of Varinth.  Your clothes are filthy, your skin is covered in grime and I can smell you from here.  You are in no way fit to meet with any man outside of a lower class tavern let alone a noble of Astoria.  So unless you are carrying within your bag a formal summons from the King himself detailing how war has suddenly breaking out and only Scheherazade can stop it, I would suggest you first find your way to the baths and make yourself presentable.” 

The only thing which could be heard in the room was the ever-present ticking of the clock and Allen was rather sure that the young man’s left eye was now twitching in synch with it.  It felt rather good to utterly dress someone down, especially when they so blatantly deserved it.  Honestly, he hadn’t been away from court so long that he should no longer expect common niceties to be observed.

“Reeve Desmondu, is Gaddes within the building?”  He knew damn well that the man was just down the hallway speaking to several of the local farmers.  They’d spent the morning arguing with them over what foods they were obligated to donate to the Crown for distribution to other villages and which supplies they would receive in turn.  It was going to be a hungry winter for many people in Astoria, but at least they were faring better than Fanelia had. 

“Yes, yes of course.  Shall I bring him here Sir Allen?”  The reeve smiled ingratiatingly at the knight, seeing in him an ally against this arrogant interloper.  At a nod from the golden blonde head, he quickly slipped out, leaving the two alone.

Realizing his social misstep, Palos quickly tried to redeem himself by bowing politely, doing his best to ensure that the bag was still clearly visible, marking his importance despite his ill presentation.  In his heart, Palos knew that he hadn’t been wrong for making the assumptions that Schezar was some debouched noble who had simply been at the right place at the right time to be a hero in the war.  After all, he’d seen the ship he travelled in and several members of his crew scurrying around outside of it.  They looked more like brigands than Astorian soldiers and he had expected little better from their leader.

“I of course apologize for the state of my appearance Sir Allen.”  He stated smoothly.   “It has indeed been a long and hard ride.  The roads are not as safe nor as stable as they used to be and I must confess to a certain amount of eagerness to meet such a decorated man as yourself.” 

The knight wasn’t fooled for a moment though he did incline his head slightly in acceptance of his apology.

“I must also congratulate you on the successful defence of the village against those vile brigands.  Several townsfolk were quite eager to speak of your prowess and glory.”  Perhaps he was laying it on a little thick, but most nobles drank up tales of their valor, especially the old war heroes.  It reminded them of a time when they were useful and if Schezar was out here on the border taking stock of broken buildings and counting turnips, then he clearly wasn’t as important as the stories said he was.

The door opened before Palos could say anything further and a tall dark haired man strode in with heavy steps.  Like the rest of the knight’s men, this one looked as if he should be robbing people at sword point, not defending them.  This time however, Palos knew to hold his tongue and keep his expression respectful.

“You needed me Boss?”  The man’s accent was rough, marking him as a peasant himself, likely of mixed descent judging by his tan skin and dark hair.  Dark eyes glanced at Palos with open suspicion and clear dislike, not that the messenger was worried; people like this peasant were beneath his notice.

“Yes, this is Palos of Varinth and he’s just arrived in the village after a long trip from Palas.  If you would be so kind as to have one of the men arrange lodging for him… and a bath?  I will see him in the morning after breakfast.”  After BREAKFAST!?  He was being told to wait?  Before the messenger could open his mouth to offer any sort of protest the peasant turned to him and gave a rather uncouth jerk of his head.

“C’mon kid.  We’ll put you up in the inn.  Most of the blood is cleaned away by now.  You should be comfortable there and hey, you’re in luck, they got one of the walls in the bathhouse up today!”  The man then slapped him on the back, dared to touch him! 

The urge to slap the peasant was almost overpowering, but he could still feel the knight’s eyes on him, looking for any more social missteps to degrade him with.  He had to tread carefully lest the man complain to anyone important.  Schezar was still a noble from an old house… no matter how tarnished and that came with its own sort of power.  Instead, Palos simply nodded his head, gave the knight a polite bow and followed his crude guide out of the office.

 

**********

 

“How bad is it Boss?”  Gaddes asked half an hour later as he strode back into the office twenty minutes later after having left the arrogant clod at the inn and asked some of the local children to look after the man’s horse.  The poor beast looked ready to fall over and hadn’t even had its tack removed.

Allen stood up and walked around the desk, pausing for a moment to glare at an old tarnished clock as if it had offended him on a person level.  Sparing it a quick glance, Gaddes couldn’t figure out what it had done to annoy the knight, but he knew better than to ask.  The man was under a lot of stress after all.

“Far from ideal but it could be much worse than it is.  We’re lucky he’s as arrogant as he is.  So long as we keep him occupied and send him away quickly, we should be able to avoid the worst of things.”  It sounded like a good speech, a rehearsed one as well, as if the knight had been repeating it over and over in his head.

“So we keep the kid on the ship.  I’m sure we could find something to keep him occupied… maybe bring in a bunny for him to torture or something.”

“That’s hardly appropriate Gaddes.”

“Sorry Boss, force of habit.”  Allen didn’t bother to pursue the matter, the statement lacked the venom it would have had two weeks ago.  Considering some of the insults he’d had the misfortune to hear the two exchanging lately, that one was positively tame.

“If you can, find out what he put in the stew last week.  I want some of that in whatever that messenger orders for dinner.  He can hardly deliver a court message to me if he can’t hold his guts together.”  This was one of those times where Gaddes marvelled at the resemblance between Allen and his sibling.  Both of them clung so tightly to their ideals of dignity and appearance, but were still so quick to resort to something like this.  It was such a juvenile, underhanded and despicable thing to do to a man who was simply attempting to perform his duties.  Moments like this made him rather proud to be a member of the crew.

“With pleasure sure.  I’m of course assuming you don’t want it to be a fatal dose?  Just kidding.”  Gaddes grinned as he backed away, eager to perform his duties.  “Should we try to hide the Alseides just in case our guest tries to snoop around?”

Allen thought for a moment, there really weren’t that many places to hide a giant war machine.  Simply having the Crusade take off would certainly keep it hidden, but most of the crew preferred staying on the ship compared to the inn and its memories of blood.  Making it unavailable wasn’t fair to them.

“No, simply ensure that the hangar is locked at all times and have guards discreetly posted around it.  Only crew are allowed on board, no exceptions.  I don’t care how cute she is.”  Gaddes ducked his head guiltily.  While he hadn’t been the one to sneak the girl onto the ship he had found out about it and tried to sneak her out rather than report it to Allen.  As a result, he was in just as much trouble as Ort.  Worse, he’d had to listen to not only Allen rant at him about ship conduct but had had the brat chime in as well, lecturing him well into the night about how such actions would never have been tolerated on the Vionne.  It made him glad the damn hunk of rock was now decorating the bottom of the harbour.

“Any idea what the message is about?”  Gaddes asked, eager for a change in topic but the knight only shook his head.

“This is the second messenger in two weeks, that’s not a good sign.  Someone is getting suspicious as to why we haven’t returned yet.  We can’t risk going back, not until we understand why they would try to take Celena.”

“I’m still saying it was all about revenge.  You were a pivotal figure in the war, it’s no surprise that some angry deserters might blame you and want their pound of flesh.  Hurting a young girl is far easier a task than battling against one of Gaeas best swordsmen.” 

Allen shook his head after a moment and tapped his fingers against the desktop, trying to spur his mind into motion.  After a moment, he realized that the tapping was in synchronism with the clocks ticking and he stopped abruptly.

“No, it doesn’t feel right.  There’s more to it, I know it.”

“You think the kid knows?”

“Oh I’m positive he does, but he’s hardly about to tell me now is he?”  Those calculating eyes focussed on Gaddes intently and the taller man sighed softly, fully aware of what was being asked of him.

“I’ll see if I can get him to talk, but honestly, he’s still pretty cagey about what he does talk about and I don’t want to abuse the trust he’s putting in me with our conversations.”   Gaddes didn’t bother to state that most of the things the youth talked about were old battles and his beloved Dragon Slayers… with a few rants about his hatred of Van and Hitomi thrown in for good measure.  “Have you tried talking to him yet Boss?”  He already knew the answer to that.  It was obvious in the way that the kid’s crimson eyes always followed the knight, shifting between cold icy rage and soul devouring loneliness when he didn’t think anyone was looking.  “It might help him sleep a little better at night knowing that he’s not alone.”

“He’s not alone.”  Allen pointed out evasively.  “He has you.”

“It’s not the same and you know it Boss.  The kids terrified of being alone, you’ve noticed that right?”  He studied the knight as he spoke, trying to convince him by force of will alone to get passed whatever walls he’d put up and remember that beneath the madness, there was a real kid in there, one who deeply missed his family.

“He’s alone in the hangar on most nights banging away on that damn machine of his.  He’s clearly just playing with you for attention.  Remember, he’s a manipulative little….”  Allen rubbed his eyes, unable to continue with the insinuations.  “I know he has problems… I can see that, but … I just can’t be what he thinks he needs.”  He struggled for the right words, unable to simply state that he was worried that the youth might try to seduce him again.

“Then be what he actually needs.  Someone who has his back.  Right now he doesn’t think he has that.  Oh he can fake it like a pro, but you’re a part of his life. A huge part, and your rejection of him isn’t helping all the crap going on in his head.  Help him sort it out.  I’ll be there with you if you want so he doesn’t bite you.”  Gaddes offered his friend a slight smile and then turned to leave.  He had a messenger to poison after all.  “You should know Boss that he’s only in the hangar when he knows people are on the ship.  When everyone is off at the tavern he starts training like a maniac, working himself into exhaustion and I’m pretty sure he does that so he doesn’t have to think about where everyone is.”

He took no satisfaction in seeing Allen wince.

 

**************

 

“Hey Fanelian, I don’t suppose you lot kept my armour tucked away somewhere on this hunk of metal did you?”  Dilandau’s voice seemed to be coming from somewhere above, causing Gaddes to look up as he entered the hangar.  Unsurprisingly, he found the kid crouched in the cockpit of his Alseides, fiddling with some wires and flicking several switches in purposeful patterns.  “I want to make sure the cockpit seals properly and you have no idea how disgusting cloth clothing gets when soaked in crima metal.”

It took Gaddes several moments to figure out what the hell the kid was talking about and several more to realize that he was being serious.

“You mean that thing is almost operational?”

“No, I plan to soak myself in liquid metal for fun.  Answer the question.”  After two solid weeks of dealing with Dilandau’s sharp tongued retorts, it was easy to ignore the snark.

“But your clothes looked fine after you fought those Alseides with the Boss.”  Gaddes pressed, earning himself a rather annoyed sigh.  Moments later, the man saw his life flash before his eyes as the damned kid hopped out of the cockpit and jumped easily across the guymelef’s frame, utterly ignoring the near twenty foot drop to a hard metal deck below.  Naturally, he made it all look effortless and landed at the second in commands feet, glaring at him coolly.  The brat was going to be the death of him.

“I didn’t flood the cockpit, which I should point out could have killed me.  There just wasn’t the pressure available to pump in that much liquid metal during a fight and still have a crima sword… actually there still isn’t, but I need to test the damn thing and make sure my adjustments are right.”

“What happens if they’re not?”  He had a feeling he knew what the kid was going to say and was hardly surprised when he was flashed that all too familiar cocky grin.

“I drown in liquid metal.”  Gaddes had heard of several test pilots who’d died in that manner right after the war.  It had to be one of the more horrible ways to die that he could think of.  “It’s all about volume and liquid displacement.  Too much and I drown, too little and the cockpit will overheat, not to mention I won’t have enough physical support during flight mode.”  He paused for a moment, letting the images sink into the older man’s mind.  “That means that the Gforces during maneuvers will snap my spine in two.”

“You Zaibach pilots are all insane.  You know that don’t you?”

“There’s a reason why we are the elite of the military…were I mean.  I don’t suppose there are many pilots left in the Empire.”  It stood as testament to the odd friendship sparking between them that Gaddes refrained from pointing out that there really wasn’t much of an Empire either since the war.

“Look, I came to pass on a message from the Boss.”  By now he was hardly surprised at the sudden guarded look in those crimson eyes.  “We need you to stay on the ship for the next few days.”  Those eyes narrowed further and Gaddes was rather sure that this wasn’t going to end at all well.  While the kid didn’t exactly go wandering around the village, the simple act of restricting his movement was naturally going to make him want to rebel.  “There’s some messenger from Palas in town.  He’s an utter asshole and looking to cause trouble.  We can’t let him see you.  Around here it’s not too difficult to pass you off as just another member of the crew but I’m sure that anyone from Palas knows your face, even with those damn goggles and clothes.”

The sneer he received was pretty much expected, as were the crossed arms and generally aggressive stance.

“So I’m a captive while some stupid prig is wandering around free?”

“Pretty much, yes.”  There was no point in mincing words with the kid.  He, like Gaddes preferred frank honesty whenever possible.  “Look, I don’t like it any more than you do.  At least you don’t have to deal with the man.  He makes you seem positively humble and he’s just a damn errand boy.”

“Oh well then, I suppose I’ll have to be more of an ass just for you.”  Yes, this clearly wasn’t going well.

“Great, that’s just what I need.”  Gaddes snarled under his breath and then experienced one of those moments where everything becomes wonderfully clear and his problems all seemed to melt away.  Dilandau would want revenge for having his movements curtailed while Gaddes needed a favour from him which would be a detriment to the man who was behind his imprisonment.  It couldn’t have worked better than if someone had written a script.  “So… wanna get some revenge?”  Yeah, he’d hit just the right button with the kid if the evil little grin was anything to go by.

“I can slit his throat?”  Alright… maybe not quite the right button…

“No, but I was thinking something much more humiliating.”

“Go on…”

“Whatever you slipped into our food last week, I was pretty sure that I was going to crap out some vital organs for a while there and believe me, it felt about as unpleasant as it smelled.  Thank you for that little experience by the way.”

“Next time tell the men not to use up all the hot water in the showers, or loudly speculate what the hell I’m doing in there.”  Count to ten, don’t strangle the kid, he’d break your arm if you tried.  “I’m a healthy sixteen year old man with no bloody privacy.  It should be obvious what I’m doing in there and not subject to ships gossip.” 

With every word, Gaddes was growing more and more convinced that he simply wasn’t being paid enough for this job.  He would have to bring this up to Allen at their next meeting… as well as a request for more bleach for the showers.

“Noted.  But I was thinking that it would be great to use some of that stuff in the messenger’s food.  It would keep him stuck in the town privy or over a bucket for a couple of days.”  While obviously tempted, Dilandau simply leaned back against the leg of his guymelef, arms still crossed lazily over his chest while he waited for Gaddes to sweeten the deal a little for him.

“He represents the Crown.  Think of it as making the King of Astoria shit his pants by proxy.”

“Lovely mental image, but you need to work harder.”  Those unnerving eyes narrowed, glinting with unnatural cunning and Gaddes knew that he wasn’t going to like what the kid was about to demand.  “It seems to me that there’s a reason you’re asking me to do this.  You’re not the type to poison a noble’s food, no matter how much he might deserve it.  It would look bad on Schezar after all.”   That smile was full of the promise of trouble and Gaddes suddenly wished the Boss was here to handle this.  He could manipulate people whereas Gaddes preferred to just punch them in the face and be done with it.

“I’ll make you a deal, and Schezar had better go along with it.”  Nodding his head, the older man prepared for the worst.  “I promise to stay on board the ship while this messenger is in the village and I’ll get you the laxative, but in return, I want permission to go get an energist for my Alseides.  It’s useless without it and Schezar damn well knows it.”

“Are you insane?!”  He’d known it was going to be something outrageous but this… this was beyond the pale.  There was no way the Boss would go along with that!

“You know… Folken confined me to the Vionne a few times too before he learned better.  The first time, Fanelia had a slight accident with fire.  The second time… well let’s just say that I set a distance record for sniping.  Does Schezar want to try his luck on a third?”  The smirk was back and every bit as mean as could be.  “Get Schezar to agree to my offer or no poison and a headache like you wouldn’t believe.”

Gaddes knew when someone had him by the balls, but at least this wasn’t going to be a decision he was going to have to make.  All of it would be on Allen’s golden head.

“Wait, you didn’t take part in the burning of Fanelia?”  That was news to him, and likely to everyone else as well.  Dilandau never sat back when there was chaos and carnage to revel in. 

“No…”  For a moment, the youth looked wistful, remembering better days when he could murder with impunity.  “Folken knew that I’d make sure that not a single Fanelian survived to rebuild their mud ball of a country.  He hoped that in keeping me back and just having my Dragon Slayers on hand would lessen the impact.”  The grin he flashed was all teeth and every bit as predatory as his words.  “He got his wish, there were survivors, but my men made sure that not a single building was left standing.”

It seemed that no matter how human the kid acted, the monster still lurked beneath the surface.  Gaddes would have to remember that.  Allowing him to power up his Alseides suddenly didn’t seem like the wisest course of action at all.

As if sensing the train of his thoughts, Dilandau’s face became stern and rather authoritative.

“Fanelian.”  Gaddes felt himself almost snap to attention at his tone of voice.  “Those bandits won’t be the last.”  He cautioned, the demonic delight in his eyes dimming, leaving only cold and calculating concern.  “There will be more, possibly better organized.  We’ll need all the firepower we can get to take them down.  Don’t cripple yourself because of what happened in the past.  That was war.  This is survival.”

“You know what’s going on don’t you.”  It was more of a statement than a question but Dilandau nodded his head all the same.  More importantly, Gaddes hadn’t missed that the kid had said “we” instead of “you”.  He considered himself on their side despite their antagonistic history.  It was a small blessing, but at least it spoke of progress.

“I do, and telling you won’t help with anything.  Just know that more are coming and they’re well motivated.”

“It’s Zaibach again isn’t it?  Why do they want you back so badly?  I mean, you’re a great warrior, but you’re still only one guy.  There’s no way you can change what happened or win back the Empire.”  This time it was Dilandau who turned away, the inhuman coldness fading from his eyes, leaving only deep dread.

“I… I don’t want to go back.”  He all but whispered.  “I’m going to defend myself Fanelian, any way I can.”  It wasn’t often that he actually looked and sounded his age, but he certainly did now and it seemed to call up some clearly stupid part of Gaddes’ psyche that wanted to reach out and protect the child.  No kid his age deserved to have that much horror in their soul.

“What happened to wanting to die?”  Gaddes pressed gently, managing to keep his hands to himself… barely.

“Not like that.”  Dilandau murmured softly, feeling the cold metal slab against his back and the knives cutting into his flesh.  His veins burned at the memory of having strange chemicals pumped through them endlessly and he could hear the screams.  He could always the screams.  Pressing his hand to his head, he clenched his eyes shut, willing away the memories before they overwhelmed him. 

It was several long seconds before he got his breathing under control and a few more before the delicate trembling of his hands stilled.  Only once he had full control over himself did he open his eyes and look at Gaddes.

“Not like that.”  He repeated.  Clearly finished with the conversation, he scampered up the leg of the Alseides with such dexterous ease that it made the older man’s joints ache to watch. 

Gaddes stood there for a long moment, watching him quickly resume his work with an unnerving level of intensity, trying to drive his demons away with sheer willpower alone.  Finally, he turned and headed back to the reeves house so he could deliver the ultimatum to Allen.  While he didn’t agree with the dirty tactics; that look in the kid’s eyes had convinced him that they desperately needed the second guymelef on their side.

 

**************

 

“Seriously, can we not just tie him up and gag him?”  Kio grumbled loudly as he jammed his pillow tightly against his head in a desperate attempt to block out the harsh cries which filled the rather cramped cabin.  “If I have to spend one more night on the bridge I’m going to start drugging him!” 

Gaddes understood the man’s irritation, after all, this was a nightly event and both of them were suffering from lack of sleep.

“I know… I know.”  He murmured, his own voice muffled by his pillow.  “It’s not like he can help it.”  It was simply some cruel trick of fate which ensured that the kid was at his worst when he was asleep.  Awake he wasn’t nearly this trying to one’s patience.

“It’s your turn to try to wake him up.”  The larger man turned slightly so that he could glare at Gaddes over the thrashing kicking body of the slender youth.  “And good luck.  Teo says that the little bastard dislocated my shoulder and cracked three ribs when I did it last night.”  Both men winced at the memory of the screams and the horrible sound of bones tearing out of their sockets. 

“Well… in his defense, you did try to smother him with your pillow.”  They were lucky that Dilandau didn’t remember the incident at all.  If he had, those injuries would have been the least of Kio’s problems.  But, in his defense, the kid did eventually move into a lighter sleep, one less plagued by nightmares.

“I mean it Gaddes, there are teas out there that can calm a person enough when they sleep to stop this nonsense.”

“And they’ll leave him acting like some half dead thing during the day.  Hasn’t he been through enough?”  As easier as it would make his life, Gaddes couldn’t quite rid himself of that look of dread in Dilandau’s eyes when he’d mentioned the people still after him.  There was no way he was going to leave the kid utterly defenseless, unable to even think about protecting himself.  It would be monstrously cruel.

Thankfully, Kio seemed to realize this as well and looked somewhat abashed over his suggestion.  Rather than continuing his argument, he simply stood up and gathered together his blanket and pillow.

“I’ll be on the bridge.”  The anger had melted from his voice, leaving only weary resignation.  “See if you can get him to open up to you about what the hell is bugging him because this can’t keep going on.  Someone’s gonna snap, and I really don’t want it to be him.” 

It seemed that everyone wanted him to talk to Dilandau this week.  He must have truly pissed off a god of ill fortune somewhere along the line.  Gaddes sighed and nodded his head, watching his friend retreat to quieter quarters, leaving him to deal with the sleeping demon.

The sound of the door opening and closing didn’t wake the struggling youth, leaving Gaddes to lean over and carefully poke a pale exposed shoulder, ever mindful of the thrashing arms.

“Hey, Brat.  Wake up.”  Naturally, the kid failed to be accommodating.  Why was he not surprised?  Dammit, he was going to get a black eye at the very least for this. 

“Gatti! Sheta!  No!  Come back!  Don’t leave me!”  Surprisingly strong hands grabbed at him, drawn by the contact.  For a moment, Gaddes was about to pull back, not wanting to be dragged into a wrestling match with someone who had no control over their actions.  Unfortunately his attempts to tug himself free failed and those slender fingers dug deeply into his skin.  There were going to be some nasty bruises there in the morning, he just knew it.  “Please… please don’t go… Dallet… Miguel… MIGUEL!”  Dilandau’s voice rose to a shriek and one of his hands released Gaddes in order to grab frantically at the air above him as he tried to reach his long dead Dragon Slayer.

“Dammit kid, you’re going to wake up the whole ship!”  Gaddes hissed, grabbing the flailing hand as he tried to hold the boy still.  For a moment he struggled, still trying to reach his dream friends and then fell abruptly silent.  Normally this would have been cause for relief, but the rather exhausted crewman had seen this too many times to be lulled into that false sense of security.  He knew what was coming.  The nightmares were always the same, an unending hell which entrapped the teenager every night.  First he’d witness his friends die, over and over by the sounds of it.  Then the true nightmares would begin; the ones which left his entire body arching off the bed as if he were in agony and he’d scream as if he were being taken apart piece by piece.  It made Gaddes’ skin crawl just to think about it and even now, he could feel the boy drawing in on himself, trying to pull away from his torturers.

“No…. no please…Gatti… Dallet… Keep them away from me…”  Lovely features were twisted with terror and fingers dug into the mattress beneath him hard enough to nearly tear the sheets.  “Please… stay away… no… NO!!!”  The arm was wrenched out of the larger man’s grip and swung at him with lethal force but Gaddes was ready for it and ducked the blind attack.

Dammit, this is when he could use Allen.  The knight would be able to calm him down with just a few touches and whispered words, but no.  That would be too easy.  Instead his friend was hiding away in his own quarters, unable to face his own inner demons.

“Don’t make me do this kid…”  He groaned as he knocked away another swing which jarred his arm rather painfully while the sleeping boys thrashing grew more violent.  “I really don’t want to do this…”  Fate hated him.  It really did.

Cursing his existence, Gaddes took a deep breath, aware that he was putting his own life at risk as he slipped further onto the kid’s bed, risking several rather deep bruises as he got his hands under the brat’s arms and pulled him against his own body.  As with Allen during that first night, the first contact made the kid go berserk for a moment and he thrashed like a crazed fish out of water before suddenly going limp against him.  That slender body shivered in terror, pressing against him even as Dilandau’s arms gripped him as if the boy was drowning.

A soft whimper escaped from his lips which was quickly silenced when Gaddes began stroking his hair gently, whispering soothing nonsense.

“You’re safe kid, I’m here for you and I’ll kick the ass of anyone trying to hurt you ok?”

“Don’t leave me… they’re going to take me back… don’t let them take me.”  The words were muffled as Dilandau buried his face against Gaddes’ shoulder, clinging like a small child.

“Who’s trying to take you Dilandau?”  Guilt filled him as he realized that he finally had a way past the reticent teen’s defenses.  They needed to know, he reasoned to himself.  The kid wasn’t going to tell them, no matter how dangerous the information might be to hide.  It was the lesser of two evils and in this moment, Gaddes was willing to play dirty to keep the kids demons at bay.

“Who’s trying to take you?”  He repeated gently and felt the body pressed against him cringe.  Reaching up, he began to stoke those silken silver locks, calming the sleeping menace with each touch.

“M…Madoushi… They want me back.  Please… don’t let them take me.  They hurt me… it hurts so much.”

“The Madoushi were disbanded Dilandau.  They can’t hurt you now.”  Zaibach had assured Astoria and the other allied countries that their dreaded sorcerers had been stripped of their tools and power, their research handed over to the victors.  No one he knew had any idea what all of that research had specifically entailed but it had been bad enough that several of the preeminent Madoushi had been executed.  The move had crippled Zaibach, preventing them from further advancing their already mindboggling technology.  It had also been a great victory for all who’d known what that unholy green sky had meant during that final battle.

“Still there… Always there… They won’t let me go… they’ll never let me go.  I’m the last… Eidolon…”  Dilandau burrowed deeper into Gaddes’ arms, his voice raw and broken sounding.  That strange word made the older man’s skin crawl and he knew it was important.  Was it a code? A designation?  What the hell was an Eidolon? 

“They’re not dead…”  How much was truth and how much was the kid’s paranoia?  After what he’d been through, Gaddes figured that he had every right to fear his tormentors, but had some of them escaped their fates?  As much as the he wished otherwise, Gaddes was more than certain that the kid’s fears were legitimate.

“Don’t leave me… please don’t send me away.  Can’t be alone… please.” 

Gaddes liked to think of himself as a strong man who generally wasn’t easily swayed by the various plights of the world around him.  Those softly whispered words though, they were so lost and desperate that they tugged at his heart in a way few things ever had.  Like Allen, he’d always been a bit of a sucker for a damsel in distress, and while the kid was certainly no damsel at the moment, his distress was all consuming.

“We’ll never send you away, don’t worry.  You’re one of us now right?  That means that we’ll protect you Dilandau.  They’ll never touch you again.  I promise.”  He found himself murmuring into the youth’s ear and even though he had no idea how they might go about doing it, it was worth it to hear that soft sigh and feel the trembling body begin to relax against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really enjoying Gaddes. He seriously needs to get paid more for all the crap he has to deal with. At least get the guy his own cabin. Seriously, who the hell would want to be Dilandau's full time babysitter?! I bet Folken just sent him to the Madoushi regularly so he could have some peace and quiet without shit being blown up, burned or sniped at random.
> 
> Anyway, next episode... The team now has a direction to look into, a neat word to investigate and an asshole to deal with. What could be more fun!?!


	10. Minty green love cloud of destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaddes starts to come to some disturbing realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own Vision of Escaflowne or its characters though I have watched it countless times and am perhaps a tad obsessive about it. Don't sue me, I'm not getting paid for this.
> 
> So, there's some more lemony goodness here gosh darn it. More foul language and attempts at violence.

                Gaddes woke up from the sweetest of dreams, filled with perfumed flesh, soft kisses and delicious bodies pressed against him, only to find his dream a reality.  Blearily, he felt a weight pressed against him, long legs entangled intimately with his own, a slender arm thrown across his chest and a head resting in the crook of his neck.

                Now THIS was how a man was supposed to wake up!  Grinning, he shifted his arm, pulling his slumbering lover closer, enjoying the feel of her body shifting to accommodate the new position.  Lips found his, warm, sweet and as soft as rose petals.   They were a delight to kiss and that wonderful mouth opened up to his questing tongue, allowing him to leisurely explore its depths and eagerly reciprocate, welcoming him with electric strokes, making sparks dance down his spine.

                Moaning softly, he shifted again so that his lover straddled his body, letting her feel his growing arousal as their kisses grew deeper and hungrier.  Her hips rocked against him, stroking his length through the thin sleeping pants he wore, every movement awakening the nerves inside his body until it practically hummed in pleasure.

                Something was different and in his sleep fogged mind, it took a few seconds to actually focus on what it was.  Whoever the woman was, she was much more muscular than he was used to.  Though her skin was soft and smooth as silk, the muscles beneath were like corded steel.  Mmm a warrior woman!  He thought in delight, remembering several dreams along that theme he’d had recently.  Only… this one didn’t seem to have breasts… he checked once again, sliding his hands across the smooth flat muscles of her chest and hearing a soft moan of pleasure as he did so. 

                Ok… no breasts… that was odd, but he could live without that, especially with how amazing a kisser she was, not to mention that incredible way she was rocking her hips against him, stroking his now engorged length with her own… WOAH wait a minute!!

                Dark eyes finally opened wide, focussing on the figure he held in his arms.  Bright crimson eyes, shining with amusement and passion looked into his own, teasing him.  Pulling away slightly, Dilandau smirked down at Gaddes before leaning forward once again and kissing him gently, tracing slack lips with the tip of his tongue.

                “Well,” The teenager purred softly, sounding far older and worldlier than his age would imply.  “What an interesting way to wake up.”

                “I… I…”  Stunned beyond coherency, Gaddes could do nothing but lay there, his brain struggling to figure out just how to deal with the mess he’d suddenly found himself in.  It certainly didn’t help that the albino was still rocking gently against him, making it damnably hard to think.

                “I must admit, I hadn’t expected you of all people to find their way to my bed.  Perhaps you were enjoying watching me wash far more than you were implying?”  Allen was going to kill him… hell, he wasn’t sure why Dilandau hadn’t killed him.  At this moment, he might even consider it an act of mercy.  Waking up rutting against Gaea’s most bloodthirsty warlord really was the sort of thing that should make your balls shrivel up and run screaming.  The only problem was, his seemed to be fit to burst and the damn kid wasn’t helping!

                The smirk grew as Dilandau playfully bit at the traumatized man’s lower lip as his hand snaked between their rolling groins, stroking Gaddes’ manhood, intending to add to his torment.  When he felt the girth of the flesh pressing against his palm, he drew back slightly and glanced down, silvery brows rising despite himself.

                “Holy shit, you’re a monster!”  He gasped delightedly, making Gaddes wish even more fervently for death.  This wasn’t happening… but it was, and why the hell wasn’t he pushing the damn kid away?

                Another stroking squeeze, another near blinding jolt of pleasure and it was all Gaddes could do to keep from crying out loudly.

                “You know, you shouldn’t keep something this lovely locked away like that.  Should we take him out to play a little?”  The youth’s voice positively radiated eagerness and he grinned the way a child would at the prospect of free access to a candy shop. 

                Before Gaddes could even muster up the words necessary to deny his interest, the Dragon Slayer captain was sliding his way down the older man’s body, his fingers expertly hooking the waistband of those far too flimsy trousers.  They offered no resistance and rather than pushing the eager youth away, Gaddes found his fingers tangling in those silken silver locks as hot breath blew teasingly over his now bared and aching flesh. 

“Tell me you want this Fanelian.”  Dilandau murmured, tracing a smooth cheek across the swollen head of his member, those shining eyes never leaving his.  The tip of that infernal tongue, so pink against his pale flesh flicked out, tasting a pearly bead of liquid which had formed at the tip of his shaft, sending a powerful jolt through his body.  It was a struggle not to thrust his hips up and drive himself into that teasing mouth.  He wanted to see those swollen lips surround him, to feel that clever tongue taste every inch of his aching flesh.  “Mmmm the things I could make you feel…”  Dilandau purred, his lips brushing their way down his length and savouring his taste before letting a soft breath ghost over sensitive flesh.  All the while, slender fingers reached down to squeeze his aching balls, thrilling at their weight.  “Do you think you can handle me?” 

The challenge was there and Gaddes surprised himself by the surge of hunger which blazed through him.  His fingers tightened in that hair, pulling just enough to make the youth moan in pleasure, silvery eyelashes fluttering shut as that searing tongue began to stroke him relentlessly.  It moved in impossible patterns, drawing out sensations he’d never thought possible until his entire body was shuddering and his hips straining as he struggled to hold them still.  Already, he could feel the pressure building inside him, that molten glow, the heavy tightness and the building ache which filled his loins until it was just this side of the pleasurable part of pain. 

His hips rocked up and he felt those deadly lips part against his flesh as he was drawn into a vast well of wet heat, tightening, stroking… drinking him down deeply until he felt that there was nothing in this universe beyond that terrific point of unity.  The pressure built inside him, tearing him at the seams as his body struggled to contain it and he threw back his head with a yell, his hips rocking up violently as he buried himself to the hilt in that delectable mouth.  Muscles tightened around him, stroking him with silken strength as his vision went white and his body exploded into sensation. 

Blinking his eyes, Gaddes lay there panting, his chest heaving and his trousers clinging to him rather unpleasantly as the blazing light which had filled him faded away, leaving his limbs tingling with the aftershocks. 

He lay on Dilandau’s cot, half tangled in the blankets with the youth sprawled intimately across him, murmuring softly in his sleep, the faintest frown marring his brow as he began to awaken.  

Torn between being mortified or simply shocked at the imagery and power of his dream, Gaddes felt the room almost spin around him.  He’d dreamed that he’d… with Dilandau… and he’d loved it?  No, no it was simply his brain screwing with him because he’d been spending so much time with the brat.  It wasn’t as if the kid was hard on the eyes, quite the opposite really, especially when he was sleeping peacefully, or sharing companionable insults with him and the crew.  But it’s not as if he was attracted to the boy.  He was far too young, too insanely vicious, too much his best friends little brother… oh Jeture’s scaly balls, Allen was going to kill him! 

The wetness at the crotch of his pants was quickly growing unpleasantly sticky and cold.  Worse, Dilandau was waking up and from the way their limbs were entangled, he could feel the firm flesh of a morning arousal pressed against his thigh. 

No, this was NOT the way he wanted the kid to wake up.  He was messed up enough as it was, and there was no way he was giving the little sadist that sort of dirt on him!   Worse was the fact that he was the adult dammit, how was he the one waking up with sticky pants while the damn teenager was showing more physical control?

Moving carefully, he lifted up the arm which was casually draped across his chest, doing his best not to notice how the kid was in exactly the same position as in his dream.  Nope, he wasn’t going to think about that, not drawing any parallels… He was going to get up, have a shower, put on some fresh clothes and then head into the village to find a lovely woman to help kiss away his dreams.  Then, he would forget that this had ever happened.  No one ever had to know.

“Fanelian?”  Dilandau’s sleepy murmur drew his attention as he slipped off the bed, sparing a moment to ensure that the kid had enough covers to stay warm.

“Go back to sleep, the sun isn’t up yet.”  He whispered gently, a smile gracing his lips despite himself at the sight of the fearsome albino warrior nodding his head and burrowing deeper into the blankets.  Dammit, no!  Showers.  He needed to hit the showers!

Grabbing a fresh set of clothes with more ferocity than needed, he all but raced out of the room, pausing only to quietly close the door.  The last thing he needed was to wake up the rest of the crew and have to answer embarrassing questions. 

 

His shower was about the only successful part of his grand plan that morning.  It was still too early for anyone to be up, let alone a beautiful and willing woman.  The inn wasn’t even open yet, meaning that he’d have to take his breakfast with the crew… sitting across from the boss and the brat, doing his best to not think about how those lips had tasted like fire and how his body had felt pressed against his own. 

Forced to return to the Crusade, he predictably found the kid working out like a maniac in the hangar, swinging his sword around in a dance which was every bit as intricate as it was lethal.  Lithe muscles bunched and flexed as the blade became little more than a silvery blur of motion.

Judging by the fine sheen of sweat glistening on that alabaster flesh, the kid had likely gotten up shortly after he’d left the room, meaning that he’d been at this for well over an hour.  If he ever needed further proof that the brat was insane, this was it.  No one ever should willingly get up before the sun.  It was inhuman and fundamentally wrong.  Still, Gaddes found himself watching the vicious moves, picturing the attacks Dilandau was fending off and the enemies he was ruthlessly dispatching. 

How the hell had this kid lost to Van?  Sure, in Escaflowne, the young king was Death personified, but outside of it, armed with only his longsword, the scrawny youth wasn’t nearly as impressive.  Still, the Fanelian king had scarred the albino youth, somehow succeeding where countless others had failed.  Sure, he’d heard Van’s version, the crew had demanded the retelling over and over again, especially whenever they’d just gotten their asses handed to them by the Dragon Slayers.  It had always been a lovely balm to their wounds knowing that one of their friends had basically carved his name into the beautiful warlords face.

At least now he understood why Allen had never been overly fond of those tales and had often left the room.  Hearing about the mutilation of one’s ex was never fun, no matter how bad the breakup. 

Did Dilandau and his Slayers ever sit around in their barracks talking about how glorious it had been to burn Fanelia to the ground or how badly they’d hurt the crew of the Crusade?   Yeah, he didn’t doubt that for a moment.  The brat loved to gloat.  It sort of made him feel better about laughing over Van’s stories.

“You’re up surprisingly early.”  To his credit, he didn’t jump as Allen spoke up from less than a foot away behind him.  Gaddes had no idea how long he’d been standing there watching the little battle taking place in the hangar.  Damned if the man wasn’t as quiet as a cat when he wanted to be.

“The kid wakes up at stupid o’clock.”  He replied, deciding to not turn around and look the knight in the eye.  He just knew that “I dreamt your little brother gave me mind blowing head” would be written all over his face.

Behind him, Allen chuckled at the comment and Gaddes could hear the soft rustle of starched silk as the man shifted his weight.

“He always did.  Apparently the Dragon Slayers were expected to begin their training before dawn.  Something about always being ready no matter the hour.” 

“Hmph, no wonder they were always so pissy.”  The second in command grumbled then risked a glance over his shoulder at the knight.  “I was wondering… do you know how the hell scrawny little Van managed to cut him?  I mean, the brat’s comparable to you with a blade, there’s no way His Highness should have been able to get close.”

He could almost hear Allen smirk slightly at the somewhat backhanded compliment, still secure in the knowledge that while the silver youth was brilliant with his blade, Allen was still the superior swordsman.  The Zaibach captain was simply too impulsive, relying more on instinct than long term strategy.  Oh he could set up cunning attacks against his enemies and could likely outlast Allen in endurance, but the older knight had the patience to lay his traps and wait for the perfect moment in which to strike. 

“You should likely ask him, though I can understand why you wouldn’t.  He’s still rather sensitive about that isn’t he?”  It really wasn’t a question so Gaddes didn’t bother to answer.  “I can’t say that I blame you.  As for myself, I found out when I read some of the files Zaibach handed over.  I was hoping to find anything in them that would explain what had happened to Celena while they had her.  I… I wanted to understand what happened to her… and to him.”  Allen sighed, running his gloved fingers through his hair, his eyes never leaving the elegantly timed attacks of his sibling, seeking any tiny flaw or weakness in his form out of habit. 

“It turns out that we got lucky the day we attacked the Vionne.  Insanely lucky.  The report said that he’d been examining Escaflowne prior to our arrival and set off some sort of trap.  Folken didn’t go heavily into details regarding that particular feature of the armour save to say that it should have been perfectly safe.  Of course, this is Dilandau we’re talking about.  Only he could make a powered down guymelef explode.

“He took out half the hangar in the blast and well, you saw the extent of the damage when we approached in the Crusade.  From the follow up medical reports, he was badly concussed, had three broken ribs and several torn ligaments, not to mention bruising to most of his internal organs.  The Vionne doctors figured that he’d been thrown from the catwalk and halfway across the hangar.  It’s a miracle he wasn’t killed outright by the explosion.  Honestly, the cut to his face was by far the most minor of his injuries.”

Gaddes couldn’t quite resist a low whistle.  How in Jeture’s name had the kid even gotten back to his feet let alone decided to attack Van. 

“Strategos Folken confined him to the ship to recover but there’s several follow up medical reports stressing that he wasn’t following orders to rest and recuperate.  Sadly, I can’t say that I’m at all surprised.”

“Well, at least no one can accuse him of being lazy.”  Gaddes attempted some humour to lighten the mood, but realized he’d failed when he saw Allen’s dour look.

“No, instead, he’s obsessively driven to the point that I don’t think he even understands how to slow down.  I’m worried about him.  How much sleep does he even actually get?”  Those blue eyes fixed on him and Gaddes could feel his cheeks heat up despite his attempts to think of anything but hungry kisses and teasing touches.

“Er… what with the nightmares…maybe two hours of decent sleep a night?”

“That’s what I thought.  It might be part of the reason for his temperament.  I wonder if he’d be calmer if we could get him to relax and rest.”  Now it was Gaddes’ turn for his smile to fade and he shook his head, finally turning to face his friend fully.  There was no need for Allen to specify that he was referring to drugging the teenager just as Kio had suggested and it made Gaddes’ stomach churn.

“I think that would be a really bad idea Boss.”  He replied softly, not sure he wanted to risk having the kid overhear them even though he looked pretty absorbed in killing invisible opponents.  “He talked in his sleep last night… during the nightmares.”  Blonde eyebrows rose in interest and Allen leaned forward slightly, hungry for any information that might shed light on their problem.

“And?  What did he say?”

“He… he said it was the Madoushi that were after him.  That they wanted him back and that there were more people coming.”  For a moment, Allen looked like he was ready to run someone through out of sheer fury, but he quickly regained his composure, taking a deep bracing breath before speaking again.

“The Madoushi are all either dead or disbanded and their researched destroyed.”  He wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to convince with that statement.  Did he honestly believe that Zaibach would roll over onto their backs so completely?  Would the most notoriously secretive organization on Gaea be defeated so easily?  Would the allied governments be so gullible as to believe them?  Or would they instead be harboring some of the vile sorcerers, hoping to use their foul magic for themselves?

“The kid doesn’t think so.  He was pretty convinced that they were out there, and really… it might explain why they were after Celena.”

“So would using her as a hostage.”

“Against you yes.  But really, what would be more dangerous?  You held in check because of your sister, or unleashing Dilandau on the world again?”  Allen didn’t bother replying.  Both were viable depending on what their enemies were after, and neither was a pleasant scenario.  “There’s more…”  Gaddes hedged in that tone of voice which always seemed to herald news the knight would rather not hear.  Thought he inwardly dreaded what was to come, he knew that he couldn’t very well refuse to listen.  After all, he’d told Gaddes to learn what he could about what Dilandau was hiding.  He could hardly turn away simply because it was unpleasant. 

“Tell me.”

“He said that he’s the last one.  I’m not sure what he means exactly but he has mentioned before that he used to train with other kids when he was younger, but they were all killed until he was the only one left.”  Gaddes saw the blonde wince slightly.  “He also said the word or name Eidolon… not sure who or what that is… maybe the name of a Madoushi or a friend from Zaibach?  He does tend to scream out names a lot in his nightmares…”  The second in command knew that he was grasping at straws but really, what else did they have?

Allen pondered the unfamiliar name, sensing that it was important.  It wasn’t the name of any of his Dragon Slayers, he knew that for sure and none of the Madoushi who’d been executed had been called that.  He’d have to look at the files again, or perhaps some of the sorcerer’s records tucked away in a locked section of the Astorian Archives.  Except, to do that, he’d have to go to Palas and obtain permission to access them.

True, he could always explain that he required the information to prevent further attacks on Celena, but there was always the risk that someone would want to see her, examine her after her attack.  There was no way that Allen could refuse medical aid or support for his sister, not after Palas knew of what had happened… and likely the damage done as well.

His only other options were to approach the leader of one of the other countries.  Van and Cid were his most likely candidates, but both had serious grudges against Dilandau and if he was found in either country, a swift execution would be the kindest fate awaiting him.  There was also the fact that it would then be drawing a third party into this mess and the more people involved, the worse this could all get.  Both Fanelia and Fried had been decimated by the war and he couldn’t place further burdens on his friend and his son.

They were going to have to go to Palas…

“Gaddes, is that messenger still in the village?”  Allen asked softly, hating himself for having to make this decision but refusing to let it show on his face. 

“Yeah, the kid’s poison worked perfectly.  Just a few hours after dinner and he was locked in the garderobe.  One of the maids said that there was the worst smell coming out of his room.”  This time Gaddes couldn’t resist grinning.  “Trust the brat to find a terrifying use for a bouquet of flowers.  And using the Death cap mushrooms?  Seriously, I never would have thought of collecting the damn things and using the methane inside them to make an explosion.  What the hell do they teach kids in Zaibach?  That’s just not normal.” 

“I leaned about them from Bengazi.  He was a beast man from a wolf tribe on our southeastern border.”  Dilandau stated, walking over to them unnoticed and inviting him into the conversation.  This time Gaddes did jump and earned himself a knowing smirk from the brat.  “He was my survival instructor.  I had to live with his tribe for a few colours when I was ten.”

“Those poor beast-men.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but murmur.  “Did the survival instructor survive the ordeal?”  The question earned him an even wider smirk from the brat and a soft chuckle of amusement.

“Of course, I would have hated the irony killing him would have caused.”

“As long as you had a good reason.” 

Allen watched the easy banter between the two, torn between being proud that his brother finally seemed to get along with members of the crew, and horrified as to their chosen topic of conversation.  Was this how they always spoke to each other?  If it was, he was going to have a rather long talk with Gaddes regarding proper topics of conversation. 

“I have a question for you Dilandau.”  The knight interrupted the two before they could further destroy the concept of civilized conversation.  Two sets of eyes turned to him expectantly, making Allen wish that he’d had a better way to open this new topic.  “Does Eidolon mean anything to you?”  Perhaps simply blindsiding the youth would reveal more than explaining his reasoning.  Rather than be greeted with suspicion or evasiveness, there was nothing but open curiosity on Dilandau’s face as he pondered the strange sounding word.

“Hmmm, no it doesn’t sound familiar.  Who is it?”  His forefinger tapped the butt of his sword idly and he gave his head a little shake, flicking sweaty hair out of his eyes.  With a flash of mild distaste at the lack of manners, knowing full well that it was intentional, Allen took a step back to avoid any stray droplets.

“We were hoping you might know.”

“We?”  The youth glanced over at Gaddes and raised a silver eyebrow in question.  Shrugging in defeat, Gaddes raised his hands, ready to ward off an attack if the kid became aggressive.

“You, you sort of talk in your sleep.”  Those smoldering eyes narrowed in warning.  “You sort of yelled it out.  It sounded important.”

“Ahhh and you’re curious as to the names I yell out in my dreams…”  The smirk became sultry, making Gaddes more than a little uncomfortable.  “Are you jealous?”  Thankfully he seemed to be aiming the look at Allen far more than him, allowing the darker man to give silent thanks to any gods who happened to be listening.

“Hardly.  You’re my brother.  That’s enough of a relationship.”  He might as well have slapped the kid in the face judging by the way those blood red eyes darkened and how the sneer pulled at his lips.  The air of playfulness faded instantly as slender fingers tightened on the handle of his sword. 

“You spoke of the Madoushi coming for you.”  Allen continued ruthlessly, hating himself for pushing the boy even further away, but knowing that if he didn’t, Dilandau would continue to hoard his secrets.

“I want my own room.”  He growled, favouring Gaddes with a dark glare for betraying him.  Gaddes in turn glared at Allen for souring the comradery between them. 

“There isn’t enough room for you to have your own.  You’ll stay bunked where you are.”  Allen’s voice brooked no argument, at least it wouldn’t with the rest of his crew but Dilandau was made of sterner stuff and he stepped forward into Allen’s personal space, all but snarling.

“No!  It’s bad enough that I’m locked in this damn ship and don’t get a single moment of privacy.  I will not have my own thoughts when I’m sleeping gossiped about and brought against me!”

“It’s for your own good Dilandau.  Now tell me.  Did any of the Madoushi survive the war with their power intact?”  How Allen could remain so calm with the albino menace bristling in front of him, hand clenching on his sword and ready to draw was beyond Gaddes but he prepared to knock it aside if the kid dared to attack the knight.

“How am I supposed to know?  I didn’t exist after the war!”

“You spoke to the prisoner.”

“I cut the prisoner up into little pieces.  There wasn’t much talking involved aside from him begging for his life.”  Their reactions were opposite sides of the same coin.  One sibling was bristling and frothing in his fury while the other was the perfect picture of calmness though Gaddes knew that both were ready to draw their blades and fight.

“Tell me about the experiments Dilandau.”  The Zaibach captain drew back sharply with a soft exclamation, his eyes widening and already pale skin loosing what little colour it had, giving it an almost greyish tinge.  Neither of them had expected Allen to leap onto this tangent and it flipped Dilandau from fight to flight in a heartbeat.  Gaddes watched as the teenager took a small step back, then another.  “Anything you remember might help us figure out why they want you back.  Tell me about the other children, tell me what they were trying to accomplish.”

Rather than speaking, Dilandau shook his head and Gaddes could see that he was visibly trembling as a fresh layer of sweat broke out on his body.

“We need to know Dilandau.”  Allen pressed, stepping forward and again the kid retreated.  Gaddes hadn’t even known that the brat knew how to retreat and honestly, it was rather unnerving to witness.

“No… no you don’t.”  Another step back, the boy’s eyes darted left and right, seeking an escape from the conversation.  “Don’t make me remember them… I can’t.”  His voice trembled badly, threatening to crack and both of the older men knew that his fragile mind wasn’t going to hold up under the pressure for much longer. 

Gaddes wasn’t sure who to watch nervously.  Dilandau could very well attack simply to stop the interrogation despite the fact that he looked ready to run.   He looked terrified at the very idea Allen was proposing and it made guilt churn uneasily in his guts.

“Then we’ll fail.  We’ll fail our mission and you’ll go back to them.  Is that what you want Dilandau?  To belong to the Madoushi again?”  That was going too far and both men knew it even as Gaddes reached out a hand to pull Allen back, wanting to give the kid space.

The line was reached, crossed… broken.  Dilandau shrieked in wild fury, the sound echoed by the clash of blades as he drew his sword and swung it at Allen in one smooth and lethal motion.  The knight barely had time to block, his own blade still in its sheath.  The weapon was stopped so close to his throat that it lightly kissed his skin, drawing a single tiny bead of blood.

Fueled by madness and unfazed by the failure of his initial attack, Dilandau continued his onslaught with a wild flurry of blows, the sheer berserker fury behind them was the only thing which spared Allen in those first few moments.  They were vicious, uncoordinated but faster and stronger than anything he’d expected and the knight grunted with each parry.  It was all Allen could do to keep the lethal edge away from his fragile flesh and several of the blows came all too close to achieving their goal.

While he wasn’t passive in the fight, his attacks were aimed at disarming his opponent, a task easier said than accomplished.  The young captain moved like lightning, full of reckless daring and not seeming to care at all if he was injured in the pursuit of his enemy, so long as victory was achieved.  It made him impossible to predict and all the more dangerous.  Had Allen the time to reflect on his actions, he likely would have given himself a swift kick for pushing the boy when he wasn’t ready.  An idiot could have seen how this was going to end, and yet he’d plowed on like a fool, heedless of the danger.  Now he’d be lucky if Dilandau even spoke to him after this… that was, if the knight even survived.

Gaddes had wisely scrambled back the instant the blades began to fly.  While he wanted to protect his friend, he knew that they were both battling well beyond his level of skill and that he’d not only be in the way, he’d likely get gravely injured on top of everything.

Instead, he chose to help by keeping the rest of the crew away.  Several of them had been drawn by the sound of battle and come running, weapons drawn and faces grim.  It only took one look at the scene before them to set their minds as to what had happened.

“It’s not the kids fault!”  Gaddes blurted out before anyone could say something to make matters worse.  “The Boss pushed him too far, the kid tried to get him to back off… it’s not his fault…”  No one seemed confused as to why Gaddes was defending their former enemy.  They’d all become familiar with seeing the two together regularly but that didn’t mean they were at ease with watching their leader come under attack.

“That won’t matter if the little psycho kills the Boss!”  Ort hissed, trying to push his way forward while drawing one of his throwing knives.  “I can tag him in the leg.  That should slow him down enough for the Boss to knock him out or something.”

“Shit, you ever seen moves like that?”  Reeden murmured with no small amount of awe in his voice.  “The kid’s a demon.  I ain’t never seen anyone push the Boss like that.”

Indeed, the two warriors were travelling across the entire hangar, their movements quick, efficient and wasting little energy with fanciful flourishes.  There was only the raw desire to destroy and defend.  Their weapons were shining blurs, impossible to follow save for the clash of steel on steel and the shriek as blades were turned aside at the last moment.  Both fighters allowed their opponents weapons to come terrifying close to contact before a simple twist caused death to pass by in a hairs breadth. 

Neither opponent was tiring, that was the worst of it.  Allen was too careful with his energy and Dilandau seemed to have a boundless reserve despite his earlier manic training session.  Raw rage seemed to sustain him and Gaddes knew that if he didn’t end it soon, someone was going to be maimed at the very least.

“Teo, get me a fire suppression canister.”  He snapped, knowing he’d damn well better be obeyed or heads would roll.  Though he didn’t dare take his eyes off of the fight, he heard the scrambling of several feet as the rest of the crew seemed to catch onto what he was wanting and got out of the way.  Within a few seconds, the heavy canister was shoved into his hands and Gaddes strode purposefully forward towards the combatants.

“I’m really sorry about this Boss.”  He murmured, giving the top of the canister a sharp twist before aiming the spout at the two warriors.  Almost instantly, the thing exploded, sending pressurized foam spraying out with blinding frothiness, coating everything in its path.

Neither warrior was expecting the strange attack, nor the way the metal floor suddenly became as slick as ice under their feet.  Gaddes had caught Dilandau in mid lunge, sending him sprawling to the floor as his feet lost their grip.  Amazingly, he still kept his grip on his sword as he was buried under a small mountain of foam.

Allen was knocked forward, slipping down to his knees before catching himself, though his legs did end up splayed out in a rather undignified fashion as he struggled to not land on his face.  The soft white foam coated him in a thick layer, rendering the normally distinguished knight to a rather amusing caricature of a snowman.

“Ae we calm now?”  Gaddes asked with perhaps a touch of nervousness to his voice.  “Because we’ve got a whole locker full of this crap.”  Upon saying that, he stood a little taller and held the now empty canister aloft in a somewhat threatening manner.

“I hate you so much right now Gaddes.”  The foamy lump which was most likely Dilandau grumbled.  Rather than be worried, Gaddes instead took heart in the fact that the youth sounded sane once again irritated but sane.

Allen on the other hand stayed silent, focussing instead on figuring out how to stand without making a fool of himself.  No one had the heart to warn him that it was far too late for that.  After several aborted attempts, he simply sat down in the foamy lather, making it seem as if that had been his intention the whole time.

“Gaddes.”

“…yes Boss?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime Boss… I mean, not anytime, but… er… yeah.”  All that mattered was that he wasn’t in trouble, at least not with the knight.  As for the brat, well, he was going to have to be very careful not to let his food out of his sight for the next few weeks.  Who knew what it might get spiked with?

“Reeden, if you would be so kind as to head to the inn and let our dear messenger know that I will expect him at the reeves office within the hour, that would be lovely.”  How the knight managed to conduct himself with such dignity while covered in foam was beyond Gaddes’ understanding.  It had to be part of that whole “being a noble” thing.  They had some sort of supernatural ability to do that.

“Sure Boss… but… if you don’t mind me saying, you likely won’t be ready.  That’s going to take forever to wash off.”

“I’m well aware of that thank you.  He will not be in any shape to meet with me either, but the offer will be made and it will be on his head if he fails to meet me.”  The knight smiled slyly, the effect somewhat ruined as he tried to flick some of the foam from his fingers.

“What the hell is this crap?  It had better not ruin my sword.”  The pile of foam off to the side snarled softly as Dilandau struggled to sit up on the slick floor.  “Ugh, this is ridiculous!  Who makes this crap?  I’m going to kill them!”  There was a gagging sound warning that the Dragon Slayer had likely swallowed some of the foul concoction.  No one dared laugh.

Allowing himself a faint smile of amusement, Allen held out a hand to Gaddes, needing a little help to stand and not being too arrogant to acknowledge it.  It was a peace offering and the second in command took it gladly, sliding slightly as he hauled his leader up, mindful of not stepping on the foam himself.

Once the knight was on his feet, he turned carefully to look at the writhing pile of foam which was his rather irate brother.

“Would you like help?”  Bless the man.  He somehow managed to keep any amusement from showing through in his voice.  A foam covered hand reached up but rather than taking the offered help, it flipped an undoubtedly crude hand sign.  Thankfully the foam covering it made it impossible to know for sure and everyone silently pretended to have not noticed.

“Go back to what you were doing guys, the shows over.”  Gaddes murmured, pitching his voice low in the name of politeness.  When no one moved, he motioned towards the now loudly swearing pile of foam which was slowly working its way to the edge of the mess.  “Unless you want to wait for the kid to get back on his feet…”  It was amazing how quickly grown men could move when properly motivated.

“I’ll get you some towels Boss.”  He murmured, making his own exit before he could be exposed to the wrath of the brat.  Allen nodded his head vaguely, his attention on his possible opponent, aware that their fight was likely far from over.

He waited until the teenager had hauled himself clear of the mess and sat there on the floor brushing off as much of the foam as he could with his hands, looking about as angry as a freshly dunked cat.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”  Allen said after about a minute of silence.  “I’m sorry.”  Apologies for him were rare things though he doubted that the youth cared at this moment.

Rather than replying, Dilandau gave his hands another irritated flick and then tried to scrape them against his thighs, hoping to knock the foam loose but only succeeded in smearing it around.

“This gunk had better come off and if it ruins my hair I’m going to make the Fanelian regret it.”

“I’m sure he already does.  Look Dilandau, we need to talk about this.”

“No we don’t Schezar so drop it.”  The reply was more hiss than words and an ill-tempered glare was shot in his direction.  “I don’t want to talk about them or anything they did.  Get that through your head.  I don’t remember most of it and the bits I do…”  He closing his eyes with a shudder and there was nothing melodramatic about the action.  “The bits I do are what give me the nightmares.  So stop making it worse for me.” 

Allen took a step towards the sitting youth but stopped when he saw how the boy’s shoulders tensed in silent warning.

“I know they’re alive.  I can feel it in my guts the same way I could always find Van.  It makes my skin crawl in the worst way to think that they’re out there looking for me… for Celena.  I don’t suppose it matters which of us they want.”  Not even Allen could argue against that statement.  He’d been witness all too often of how the Dragon Slayer could home in on the Fanelian king flawlessly.  It was uncanny really and it sent a chill down the knight’s spine to even think of how that was possible.

“The Zaibach government handed over the Madoushi leaders for execution, the ones involved in the Destiny Machine.”

“Destiny Prognostication Engine.”  Dilandau corrected curtly with no small amount of ill-founded national pride.  “If you don’t even know what the damn device was called, how do you expect to know exactly who was behind it or what exactly it did?  Half you barbarians likely thought that all it did was give the sky a look of minty freshness for that after battle funk.”  Unable to contain the sudden swelling of curiosity, Dilandau glanced over at Allen.  “How did you manage to stop it anyway?  It activated, we should have won.  Emperor Dornkirk was never wrong in his predictions.”

Moving cautiously, not wanting to slip, Allen sat down on the disgusting floor, figuring that his clothes were already ruined, he might as well simply accept it and make himself comfortable.  This time Dilandau didn’t pull away from his proximity and the knight took that as a good sign.

“It was a little confusing at that time.  Everyone was consumed by their greatest desire and started to act on it.  Zaibach left the field of battle as soon as the sky turned green, but everyone else seemed to go insane.  Allies started fighting each other… do you remember that at all?”

Dilandau smiled faintly at the memory, his eyes distant.

“I remember fighting… it was so much fun cutting everyone down.  I felt so strong, so free.”  His smile faded.  “I remember seeing Van, feeling my joy turn to rage.  Nothing mattered more than killing him, seeing his blood leaking out of that damn demon machine of his and hearing my flames lick at his bones.”  Crimson eyes blazed for a moment with bloodlust, but it faded almost instantly.  “I… Things get strange after that.  I remember hearing this terrible sound of tearing metal, hearing the screams of my Slayers… I saw… I saw Jajuka fall as Van cut him down…the blue flames ate him up… just like they did with the others…leaving me alone.  Always alone…I couldn’t hear anything through the screaming.”  He began to tremble again, though it wasn’t with the same terror as with the Madoushi.

“I … I heard a voice, a girl.  She told me she could take it all away, she could make the pain stop, make everything stop.  She promised that I’d never be alone again… and I believed her.  I wanted so desperately to believe her.”  He laughed softly at his own gullibility; the sound was broken and filled with pain.  “I should have fought to the death, died like a warrior rather than running and hiding like… like a little girl.”  The sheer cosmic humour behind his ultimate dishonour wasn’t lost on him.

“As for what happened in the Empire itself… that bomb fried my coms.  I couldn’t hear anything.  I knew a retreat had been sounded but I didn’t care.  I figured that if I didn’t hear it over the radio then I didn’t have to obey and I wanted to have fun.”

Allen gave a small shudder of his own as he remembered the utter devastation of Basram’s energist bomb.  It had obliterated Zaibach’s forces as well as a large chunk of the battlefield, killing friend and foe alike.  He’d never seen anything so utterly devastating in his life and honestly hoped to never see its like again.

“Hitomi and Folken used the remains of some machine Folken had to call up a pillar of light.  It took them to the Emperor in the capital.”  That certainly got the teenagers attention as he realized how the Strategos turncoat had bypassed all of the security around Zaibach’s precious Emperor and simply walked right into the throne room unchallenged.

“They talked with him if you can believe it, and he explained his vision of the perfect future where all wishes were made real.  Folken attacked him, killing them both.”

“Traitor!”  The Dragon Slayer hissed in rage, his hands clenching his sword once again.  It seemed that a lifetime of worshiping the idol which was the Zaibach Emperor wasn’t wiped away as easily as the knight had hoped.  Despite the cruelty he’d suffered at his leader’s orders, the boy still venerated the man.  It really shouldn’t be that surprising Allen thought.  Dornkirk had been a living hero to that country, a god made flesh.

“With their death, the machine was activated and everyones wishes were granted.  He wanted to die Dilandau, he said that he’d foreseen it.”  Now it was Allen’s turn to frown bitterly, remembering the rage which had burned inside him, the bloodlust which had caused him to turn his sword on Van in order to stop him from killing Dilandau as he lay trapped in his ruined guymelef.  “It was the same machine which had destroyed Atlantis long ago, killing everyone in the blink of an eye.  It would have done the same to us, driven us to tear our world apart with our own bare hands and self-righteous hearts.”

“So what happened?”

“Hitomi happened.”

“The mystic moon bitch… I should have killed her when I’d had the chance.”

“If you had, we’d have all died.”  Allen shot back gently.  “She called to Van, brought him to the Capitol and the heart of the machines power.  Their love and desire for peace overpowered our desire for battle and it soothed the hatred in everyone’s hearts.” 

For a moment Dilandau just looked at him incredulously, the look was rather comical what with all of the foam sticking to his hair.

“You’re telling me that… love destroyed my Empires goal?  The destiny we’d been struggling towards for over two centuries?  Fucking love?!”  Dilandau wasn’t sure if he was more angry or disgusted with this revelation.  How had the Emperor not seen this?  

“Emperor Dornkirk wanted to create a utopia, a forced utopia.  In a way, he achieved that goal.”

It was impossible not to laugh at this statement and Dilandau was never one to fight against his various urges.  Instead, he laughed loudly at the sheer ridiculousness of it, falling back into the foam with a soft “whumph” and not caring in the least.

“Fucking love… My beautiful army destroyed by bunnies and flowers and bad fucking poetry.  No wonder I took myself out of existence.  That’s too humiliating to endure.”

“It’s a powerful force Dilandau.  Denying it doesn’t make it any less so.”

“Sex is powerful Schezar, lust, rage, pleasure, pain.  Those are powerful forces.  Not love, that’s just something bards made up to pay for their drinks at taverns.  Besides, great job on that utopia.  I’m having a fucking blast with it.  How about you?  Have all your dreams come true?  Mine certainly haven’t”

“Actually they have.”  The knight looked over at the foam covered Slayer with a level gaze, surprising the teenager.

“Huh?  How?  You have to deal with me giving you a constant headache.  Your sister is gone and we have fucking Madoushi coming after us… well, me specifically.”  Again, curiosity filled those shining eyes along with an equal measure of confusion.

“Well, in my perfect world you’d be far less vulgar.”  Allen couldn’t quite resist saying.  “You’re worse than anyone else on the crew and that’s impressive in all of the worst ways.”

“Raised in the military Schezar, believe me, I’m fucking high class compared to the grunts on the line.  Still, how can you be happy?  I’m here instead of your sister.”

Allen looked at him for a long moment, remembering the first time they’d met until now, with all the times in between.  Everything from the battles where they fought side by side, the passion, the arguments and the desperate fights against each other flowed through his mind.  He thought back to his beloved sister and how she laughed and took delight in even the simplest of things.  Her smile when she’d seen him after all those years away and her screams of agony as her body changed in front of him.  For better or worse, all of those were precious to him.

“You’re my brother Dilandau.  You might drive me insane most of the time, but I love you just as I love Celena.  Yes, I hate many of the things you’ve done and still do, but it’s a part of you and so long as I know that you’re doing your best to work with us, I … I find that I understand your motivations.  I don’t condone your actions mind you, but I understand them.”

“But you still want her back don’t you.”  Dilandau’s voice was soft and strangely vulnerable sounding.  “You would choose her over me in the end.  She’s your sister.  I’m… I’m the parasite inside her.”  This time Allen did reach out his hand and gently squeezed his siblings shoulder, trying to project as much love in the touch as he could.

“You’re a person Dilandau.  You might have had a rather unique birth, but that doesn’t make you any less of a man than the rest of us.  I love you.  Please don’t think that I don’t.  I’m just not very good at this little brother thing.  It’s a bit of a surprise.  I’m sorry that things have changed between us, but I can’t be what I once was to you anymore than I could be that for Celena.  It doesn’t make me care any less, in fact, I would hope it makes me care more.”

“You’re such an Astorian Allen, a simple “I’m not going to fuck you but I’ll still fight by your side” would have been good enough.  Stupid fucking minty green love cloud of destiny screwing up everyone.”  Despite his snide words, there was a hint of a smile on Dilandau’s face beneath the foam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupid love cloud of destiny.  
> Anyway, still trying to get the damn characters on track, they keep wandering away from me in amusing ways. Next chapter should have plot coming to smack people in the face.


	11. Loose lips sink ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen shows his mean streak and problems arise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Escalfowne or the characters. Wish I did. 
> 
> So, the pot is being stirred, some lines are being drawn and naughtiness ensues. The road to hell is always paved with the best of intentions.
> 
> There are a few OC's here just to round out the crew a little.

It was hard to resist smirking as Allen watched out of the corner of his eyes as the messenger stood there in front of his desk.  The man’s face was pale and drawn as if he’d lost several pounds of weight over the past evening and his somewhat greenish hued brow was slick with sweat.  Rather than standing with the cold arrogance of yesterday, he now shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his muscles tense as he struggled to keep his guts in check.

                Perhaps it was cruel to be taking his time with this meeting, but Allen felt more than a little justified with this harsh lesson in humility.  Still, there was harshness and then there was flat out sadism.  While his sibling would quite happily spend an hour pretending to read the documents in front of him before growing bored and acknowledging the man, Allen wasn’t nearly so cruel.

                “S…sir?”  Palos ground out through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with the strain his body was under.  “Sir, I apologize for the inconvenience I have posed towards you.  There is no excuse for my delay of our meeting, but if I might press that the King eagerly awaits your report-“

                “Then you should not have cancelled our earlier meeting.”  Allen interrupted coolly, not bothering to glance up from the report on surviving livestock he was looking at.  “It was rather rude of you to do so, and now to appear before me looking so… ill fit for your duties.”

                “Sir?”  Palos’ skin took on an even greener hue and the knight could actually hear his innards gurgling in warning.

                “You have an odour about you Palos of house Varinth, one which is most unpleasant.  Was the bathhouse unacceptable?”  Blue eyes watched dispassionately as the messenger cringed, likely picturing his precious position and further political advancement blowing away in the wind.  Men had fallen from power over less and Allen had no compunctions about reminding him of this.

                “My apologies Sir Allen.”  Palos sputtered, the gurgling in his stomach growing more pronounced.  “I’ve fallen ill, very ill.  I admit that I’m not fit to see you, but I didn’t wish to further delay our meeting.”  The man was twitching visibly now, desperate to contain his churning bowels.  Any minute now, he’d loose that battle and foul the office.  That was something Allen had no wish to witness. 

                Standing up, he gave the tortured man a look which one might mistake for pity if they didn’t understand the game being played in this room.  Motioning towards the door, the knight made as if to dismiss the messenger.

                “Go find yourself a privy man.”  He snapped.  “You’re in no shape to be stirring from your bed.  Cleanse yourself of whatever is plaguing you before being seen again.  If it’s some sickness I don’t wish it passing to my men.”

                The messenger needed no further permission to run from the room, his hands desperately clutching at the seat of his pants, trying to press his cheeks together.  The important blue bag and its precious contents were completely forgotten in the face of his foul priorities.  Not that Allen was going to remind him. 

                “That was cruel Boss.”  Riom said from the door where he was playing guard for the knight.  The short heavy boned crewman grinned widely around the toothpick stuck between his lips.  “I doubt he’s gonna make it to the nearest privy though.” 

                What with all the problems currently weighing on Allen’s head, he found that the discomfort of a single man was hardly his priority.

                “He will likely be otherwise occupied for the next two days.”  He replied casually as he straightened the paperwork on the desk, making sure it was all in order to give to Minister Charot when he returned to Palas.  “Ensure that he doesn’t bother any of the crew until he’s properly recovered, and for Jeture’s sake, don’t have anyone touch him until his clothes have been properly cleaned.”  There was no objection from his crewman, though his vibrant green eyes studied the knight from beneath heavy brows.

                “I saw Kio studying the maps earlier this morning.  We heading out?  Did the prisoners finally give us something good?”  Jeture save him from gossips.  Allen refrained from frowning at the obvious attempt to fish for information to spread around.  Riom was one of the biggest gossips in the crew and even though the man meant well, Allen found that he always had to mind what he said lest it be spread around like wildfire.

                “They’re still silent, and I’m worried about that one pilot’s leg.  Teo says that it might be infected.”

                “Bah.”  Riom spit his well chewed toothpick out onto the floor and immediately popped a fresh one into his mouth.  “The best Zaibach soldier is a dead one.  Certain company exempted of course.”  He added quickly before the knight could give him a warning glance.

                “Mind where you are Riom.”  Allen warned softly, surreptitiously glancing around to ensure that no one was within earshot of their conversation.  “Idle banter can lead to the fall of empires.”  The shorter man huffed in amusement, not looking overly worried despite the warning.

                “I’m just wondering what we’re gonna be doing with the prisoners.  We taking them with us?” 

                Rather than answering, Allen took a moment to ensure that all of his work was put away in his own satchel before heading to the door and walking out into the hallway.  There was a housekeeper idly dusting a bannister not too far away, making Allen wonder if she’d been placed there to spy, or was simply waiting for a chance to flirt.  When his eyes met hers, she smiled prettily and ducked her head.  The demure action was at odds with how she then stretched out in order to reach a particularly high rung, arching her back and allowing her rather wonderfully rounded bottom to jut out.  Both men paused for a moment, unable to help but admire the view being offered, though she seemed to only notice one of them.

                “My Lady.”  Allen acknowledged her politely with a nod of his head, watching as she coloured rather prettily and gave a soft giggle.  Admiration and yearning shone in her eyes and he knew that should he desire, the young woman would gladly warm his bed tonight.  Perhaps that’s what he needed to get his mind off of his many problems.  A simple night of pleasure with a pretty girl.  How long had it been anyway?  Colours of time.  Such a thing was simply unnatural as far as he was concerned and upon consideration of that, he felt his smile grow warmer.  They would be leaving the village soon enough anyway so there would be no need to deal with fanciful attachments on her part afterwards.

                “No guests on the ship, remember Boss?”  Riom clearly was enjoying this moment, well aware of his leader’s reputation.  Noticing the blonde’s smile fade, he couldn’t help but grin.  He knew that the knight would hold to his rule despite his obvious desire.  The crewman decided to speak to the rest of the men and see if they couldn’t collectively convince him to relax the rule for one night.  Maybe they could even find some pretty young tart and get her drunk enough that she wouldn’t recognize the kid.  If anyone needed to get laid, it was him.   As far as Riom was concerned, that was a priority, especially since Gaddes had taken to spending so much time with the albino. 

Everyone knew what people from Zaibach were like and he didn’t particularly fancy the idea of the kid getting it into his head to start looking at the crew like that.  It was already unnerving having to share a shower with the altogether too pretty youth.  It was the sort of thing that could confuse a man, but thankfully, it was something that could be easily cured by a lovely pair of breasts and a sweet honey filled hole.  Besides, the men wouldn’t mind saying goodbye properly to several village lovelies. 

                Buoyed by this new idea, he glanced over at the girl as they strode past and flashed her a knowing smile before tapping the side of his nose and winking.  Her pretty pout of dejection became one of hope which the knight thankfully failed to notice.  Yes, this could make for a fun night for everyone.

                “You need to relax a little Boss, take in the local scenery if you know what I mean and enjoy yourself.”  Honestly, he had no idea why nobility were so uptight about these things.  The wench clearly wanted a good tumble and here they were, local heroes.  Yet the Boss hadn’t indulged even once when the crew had been enjoying themselves.  A man could get sick denying himself like that.  Everyone knew it.

                “When I have time I’m sure I will, but we have other priorities.”  Riom simply grunted at the knight’s lack of proper priorities, noticing how he barely even seemed to notice the looks of open admiration he drew from all the surrounding villagers.  . 

                “Like the prisoners?”  The shorter man couldn’t help but ask as they strode past the jail, pausing only long enough for Allen to ascertain that two crewmen were on duty guarding the door in a more or less alert manner while the guard on duty lounged around sullenly across the street of his own building.  Allen hadn’t wanted to risk any of the captives announcing the identity of a certain silver haired captain and had ordered anyone who wasn’t crew banned form the building.  In the wake of the death of the first prisoner, the guards had had little ground to object.

                “Yes, the prisoners.”  Allen murmured.  “We can’t risk leaving them behind.  They’ll tell everything.”

                “You could always just let the kid at them.”  Riom grumbled, more to himself than the knight.  “It worked wonders last time.”  That comment earned him a rather dark scowl and he decided to shut up before he got given bathroom detail or something equally unpleasant.  At least he knew that he wasn’t the only one to think that it was long past the time of carrots and they should bring in the stick.

                “These men are little more than pawns.  We need to find the trail that will lead us to the people behind it.  All we caught ere expendable Zaibach deserters..  Yes, they were organized to some extent, but actions such as this were too ambitious.  They weren’t after crops or goods, they wanted Celena.”

                “No offence intended Captain, but we can’t really know that, I mean, maybe they were just after some pretty tail?”  He knew as soon as he spoke that he should have kept his mouth shut and that it was likely only the fact that they’d known each other for years that kept the knight from drawing his sword in anger.  “Sorry Boss, I wasn’t thinking.”

                “Clearly.”  Allen all but growled.  “Go see to our supplies.  I want to ensure we have fresh food for the trip.”  The much longer legs of the knight began to quickly draw him away from the stockier Riom, leaving him behind to figure out how to make it up to him.

 

                Allen stalked back to the ship knowing that he was being childish in regards to Riom’s foolish words.  Yes, Dilandau had gotten vital information by behaving like some wild animal and tearing a man’s face apart.  That didn’t mean that he was going to lower himself or his crew to that level.  Besides, he’d meant what he’d said to the stocky crewman.  The chances of those prisoners knowing anything of value was minimal at best.  The Madoushi weren’t about to reveal their plans to a group of untrustworthy men they were sending into battle.  If they’d managed to avoid the purging of the Empire, then they were far too clever to make such a stupid mistake now.

                No, he needed to take the prisoners with him back to Palas, and that meant enlisting the help of one of the Royals to ensure that they were punished lawfully, yet very quietly.  As much as it pained him, there was only one particular Royal who would be willing to keep his secrets even at the risk of her country, though he was loathe to put her to the task for a second time.

                Princess Eris had kept her silence in regards to Dilandau’s identity during the war, an act which had most likely saved Celena’s life once she’d reverted to her original form.  Would she be willing to do it again knowing that the youth was free once again?  He truly hoped so because she stood as his only hope of acquiring the information he needed without being branded a traitor. 

                As he walked into the comforting hallways of the Crusade, he could hear amused laughter from the mess hall and headed over in that direction, curious as to what had everyone in such a good mood.

                “So then, these damn monkey-men things race off into the woods with the other half of our clothes as we all just stared at them like morons not believing that this was actually happening.  Dallet was the first to snap out of it and he took it into his head to chase after the damn things screaming about thieves and waving his sword around.  I thought Shesta was going to drown, he was laughing so hard.”

                “So the big bad Dragon Slayers were stuck there at a hot spring, naked as the day they were born?”  That sounded like Ort though Allen had never heard him sound so utterly hysterical before.

                “Oh indeed we were.  What was worse was that there were about a hundred of the damn things racing all over the place.  We had no idea which ones to follow and the damn vermin could run like the wind.  Viole finally managed to catch one of the bloody things.  It had tried to make off with his boot and gotten it stuck on some branches.  Thus began our attempt at a hostage exchange.”

                Curious, Allen poked his head around the corner and found most of his crew sitting around the table, the remains of a light dinner scattered around in front of them as well as several bottles of wine.  Dilandau was seated at the center of the table, an empty bottle in front of him and a half full glass of red in his hand which he was waving around elaborately as he told his outrageous story.

                “You mean to say you screamed at them to return everything or you’d burn their entire forest down?”  Gaddes snorted inelegantly, trying to drink his mead without laughing and failing miserable.  The albino grinned guiltily and took a large sip of his drink, nodding his head.

                “Something along those lines.  Or at least I would have but Gatti dunked me back under the water.  Bastard said it was an accident, but when I got back up onto the rocks, he was telling the damn thing Viole had caught that if it took us back to its village, we’d give it our food in exchange for our armour back.”

                “Damn that kid had balls of steel.”

                “Surprised you didn’t kill him for that.”

                “Oh I thought about it, but it had worked, the stupid things took us to their village.  Leading us buck ass naked through the jungle like it was a damn parade or something.  If I’d thought for even a second that they were getting any amusement out of it, I’d have killed them all with my bare hands.  I think Gatti saw this because he had Shesta and Miguel flanking me at all times.  As if I’d be any less likely to tear my way through them than the others.”

                “And I take it the trade went well?”  Kio refilled the kid’s wineglass without asking then poured a generous amount for himself as well.  Dilandau nodded his head happily and reached out to snag a small slice of meat with an eating knife, spearing it neatly and popping it into his mouth.  The action was so lower class that Allen was utterly shocked for a moment, fully aware that the young captain detested such rough table manners.  He must have had more to drink that the knight thought.

                “Oh indeed it did.  We got our clothes back and the monkey things were so happy with the food we gave them that they handed over some extra trinkets as well.  I’d thought that they were just random bits of junk and was going to just toss them over the side of the Vionne when we got back, but Ryuun recognized one as a rather priceless carving from a famed lost caravan.  None of us ever teased him about his love of art after that.”

                “So what happened next?”  The men all leaned forward eagerly but Dilandau simply sipped his wine and smirked.

                “You wanted an embarrassing story, I told you one.  It takes away from it if I tell you that we then went on an exciting treasure hunt filled with pirates, a lost tribe of beastmen and some crazy water witch.  I will however share that when we returned to the Vionne, we were so overburdened with treasure that even Strategos Folken’s jaw hit the ground.  I even overheard him telling General Adelphos that he was seriously considering sending us out on more week long survival exercises in order to fund the war effort.”

                “Yeah, I’m calling bullshit on that.  No way did you do anything like that.”  Reeden scoffed playfully.  “I think it all ended when you burned the poor little monkeys to ash for giggling at your teeny little white pecker.”  The clearly suicidal man held up his pinky finger and wiggled it suggestively.

                “Mmm been picturing it in your mind have you?”  Dilandau purred back playfully, proving that he was more than a little drunk if he was behaving in such a friendly manner.  “I assure you, it’s never been described as teeny unless I’m standing next to Dallet.  The man was a monster!  I swear you could always tell whatever girl he’d been with the night before because she’d be limping for the next day or two but had the biggest damn smile on her face.”

                More men laughed uproariously and it was at this time that Allen decided to step in lest his sibling decide to get it into his head to show the crew what he meant.

                “Allen!  We weren’t sure when you’d be back so we started eating, but I saved food for you.”  Gaddes grinned at the knight and poured some wine into a fresh cup and handed it over to his friend.  “It should still be warm.”  Several men got up from the table to make room for their leader, but Allen waved them back down.

                “We’ve been swapping stories.  You wouldn’t believe some of the crazy things those Zaibach kids got up to!  Why didn’t you tell us they were so much fun!”  Dilandau smirked over at Allen and took another sip of his wine.  The calculating cleverness shining in their depths warned the knight that the youth wasn’t nearly as drunk as he was acting.

                “Yes, Schezar, why don’t you share with your crew how much fun we had together?”  The innuendo was thick enough to cut with a knife though thankfully it seemed to go wholly over the heads of the men; except for Gaddes who choked on his mead.

                “I’d rather not.”  Allen replied smoothly, taking the wine from Gaddes with a smile and sipping it lightly.  “Though if you wish to continue to embarrass yourself, be my guest.”

                “I believe I’ve done enough damage to my reputation for the night.”  The Dragon Slayer captain smiled, earning a few gusty cheers from the crew.  It was obvious that Allen had likely missed more than a few bawdy tales of their former enemy.  “Besides, I need to get back to training for the night.  I have a long day tomorrow after all.”

                Several inquiring eyes turned to the youth, everyone curious as to what was going on.  Allen silently cursed himself for not mentioning it to the crew sooner, but he supposed that was his own fault.

                “My Alseides requires an energist to power up safely.”  Dilandau explained, swirling the remaining wine in his glass almost playfully as he studied the reactions of the crew.  “Tomorrow I intend to procure one.  It will only require a short trip in the Crusade and it also serves to keep me out of sight while that flatulent messenger is in town.”

                All eyes now turned to the knight, none of them daring to believe that he’d actually authorized the trip.  It was one thing to have the kid working on that monster in the hangar but quite another to know that it was about to be powered up and ready to kill. 

                “You are not to leave Gaddes’ side during the entire trip.”  Allen cautioned.  “If I have to tie you both together to ensure that you behave, I will.”

“We’ll be heading to an energist mine a few hours south of us, at the base of the Chatal Mountains.”  Kio mentioned casually.  He’d been plotting the course all day and was the only one not surprised by the announcement.  “We should be back in two days and as far as the villagers are concerned, we’ve just skipped off to one of the nearby forts to check on them in the wake of the attacks.  It won’t even be a lie.  We’ll be making brief stops to warn them about an increase of bandit activity in the area.   Maybe we’ll get lucky and they can tip us off about any other groups organizing themselves.” 

None of the men looked thrilled by the prospect of heading to a mine on an errand for the kid.  They were even duller than backwater villages, if that was at all possible and they all knew that they’d likely be pressed into doing some heavy labour while they waited for Dilandau to find a stone that suited his needs.  It was a task that could take several hours if he was being particularly picky.

Sensing their collective reluctance, Allen smiled at them all and took another sip of his drink.

“The only ones required for the job are Gaddes and Kio, though I’d like either Katz or Pyle to go as well, just in case there are any mechanical problems with Crusade.  It’s rough country down there and I’d rather not take any risks.”  The two mechanics glanced at each other and quickly began a hand game to decide which of them was doomed to boredom for a day.  Pyle won and he cheered loudly as Katz quietly resigned himself to his fate.

“What about the rest of us?  I thought we were going to go back to Palas?”  Ort asked as he pulled out one of his many knives and began to sharpen it at the table.   “We not going now?”

“The messenger is going to be sick for the next two days.  After that, he’ll be moving slowly, so I figure that will give us about a week at least to sort things out on our end.  Before that happens, I want to give Dilandau a chance to get his Alseides up.  If we need to run, I want every tool we have available at our disposal.”  That seemed to get everyone’s attention, especially his siblings.  For a long moment, the albino as struck speechless as the knight had just openly stated that he’d be willing to cut his ties to his beloved country in order to keep him safe.  “If anyone isn’t comfortable with my decision, please let me know and you will be honourably discharged from my service.  I won’t ask any of you to sacrifice your honour, but I will not turn my back on my brother.” 

“We’re with you Boss.”  Gaddes stated without pause and several others were quick to agree.

“Our loyalty is to you above everything Boss.”

“After everything we’ve been through?  You’re not getting rid of us so easily.”

“Crusade forever!”  Several glasses were raised in a toast to their unity and Allen was pleased to see that even Dilandau joined in.  The youth was perhaps a tad less boisterous than the crew, still stunned by the implications, but there was honest gratitude in his eyes as he drank as part of the team. 

**********

 

“Not that I’m against you all having a party to celebrate my leaving your presenc, but this is beyond moronic, even for you lot.”  Dilandau hissed as the now well inebriated revelers invaded his formerly quiet sanctuary of the hangar.  He’d barely had a chance to kill the lights around the Alseides unit, leaving it cloaked in shadows before the crew and several village girls poured into the room.  “Schezar wanted me to stay out of sight!”  He continued fruitlessly, quickly pulling down his goggles and checking to ensure that his scar was covered by his long bangs.

“C’mon kid.  You take yourself far too seriously.”  Riom chided and moved to slap the albino playfully on the back but remembered himself just in time.  “Tonight we make you a man!”

“I assure you I’m a man.”  Was the scathing reply.  “In my country we become an adult the instant we enlist in the military.  Doubly so when we make our first sanctioned kill.  I’ve been a man since I was ten years old.  Eight if you are going by kills.”  Crimson eyes flashed warningly as the youth stalked towards the door to the hangar, furious at having his workout interrupted but for once refusing to break Allen’s orders. 

Even he could see the logic behind it.  If he was recognized, it was all over for them.  They might be able to silence the prisoners, but the knight would never stand for him slitting the throat of any overly curious villager.  Besides, commoners gossiped.  He’d likely have to put the whole town to the torch… actually, that could be fun.  It had been a while since he’d committed any massive scale arson attacks.

“Stay kid.”  Pyle joined in.  “We’re just having some fun, there’s no harm in that.”  Several other in the crew motioned for him to join them and despite his better judgement, Dilandau felt their invitation pull at the lonely hole inside him.  Their agreement to defect from their country to keep him safe had come as a shock and inwardly he was still reeling.  Yes, logically he knew that they were only doing it to follow Allen, but the knight had sworn to stay by him no matter what.  They were family.  Was this what real family was?  Some of his Slayers had tried to explain it to him once, but it had never made sense to him… truthfully, it still didn’t.  But inside, there was a strange warmth whenever he thought of their earlier vows and a large part of him wanted to bask in that comfortable radiance a little longer.

“Where’s Schezar?”  He asked, fully aware that the knight wouldn’t condone this level of socialization.  Several of the men laughed at the question, making it obvious that there was a joke there somewhere.

“He’s found himself a brown eyed lovely to warm his bed for the night.  Sweet little thing.”  Riom happily announced, holding his hands in front of his chest, pantomiming large breasts.  “Lovely personality.” 

“He’d better not make me an uncle.”  The Dragon Slayer grumbled, more annoyed at the thought that Allen was dallying when he should be minding his crew rather than the fact that he was enjoying a lusty night.  At least one of them was enjoying themselves.  Dilandau on the other hand was still struggling to come to grips with the realization that his sex life had likely been brought to a screeching halt at the ripe age of sixteen.  He was simply too recognizable and too universally loathed to be able to find a willing partner and the thought of forcing an unwilling one made him nauseous.

“Heh, I’m surprised he doesn’t have half a dozen little blonde spawnlings tottering around Gaea by now.”  Ort snickered as he wrapped an arm around a rather well-endowed darker skinned girl from either the edge of Freid or Fanelia.  The girl made a twittering sound at the comment which the albino figured was intended to sound like attractive laughter but simply made his skin crawl.

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be herded towards the group, most of whom had already seated themselves around one of the work tables and had piled several bottles of wine on its surface.  Several of the women looked up as he approached and they smiled invitingly, a tad too invitingly.

“Ooooh he’s lovely.  Come sit by me beautiful boy.  I’ll take good care of you.”  One pretty blonde girl smiled at him, patting a space next to her while her other hand deftly unfastened the top button of her blouse, showing the rounded edges of her generous breasts.

“Ladies, this is the kid.”  Riom stated loudly, earning himself a warning growl from Dilandau.  “Now, which of you lovelies would like to make him a man tonight?”

“What?!”  Dilandau dug in his heels and glared at the stout crewman.  “We’ve been over this.  Whatever stupid rite of passage you’re intending, forget it.  I’m a man already.”  The irony wasn’t lost on him that he was beginning to sound like a petulant child and that only served to irritate him further.

“Of course, of course.  I was joking kid.”  Riom patted him on the shoulder, earning himself a warning glare until he removed his hand and gave the albino some personal space.

“Go easy on him Riom.”  Gaddes chuckled from where he leaned against a sweet looking woman with long light brown hair elegantly piled up on top of her head.  “Here kid, have a drink.”  A large glass was handed over to him and Dilandau sniffed it cautiously.  This wasn’t wine and it had a rather sharp scent.

“My father brews it.”  A dark skinned woman of unknown origin announced proudly.  “It’s a family recipe passed on from our homeland.”  Taking a cautious sip, Dilandau found himself coughing loudly as the liquid seared his throat like fire, leaving a trail of heat behind as it settled in his stomach.  Several people laughed, though it was more friendly than mocking.

“Everyone chokes on their first glass.”  She smiled, looking proud of the effect the drink had had on the youth.  “It gets easier to swallow.  Give it a try.” 

Not one to back down from a challenge, Dilandau held her gaze as he lifted up the glass then brought it to his lips.  With a quick toothy grin, he then downed the entire cup in one long masochistic draw while the crew cheered loudly.  If that first sip had tasted like fire, this was much like what he’d imagine swallowing Basram’s energist bomb would be like.  He could feel it sear several layers from his throat and for a moment, the world spun rather dizzily.  Not stopping until every drop was swallowed, he then held the empty cup aloft as if it were a war prize.

Everyone cheered at his stamina and the cup was refilled immediately by eager hands as he now allowed himself to be led to the table.  Whatever was in that drink made him feel rather relaxed and warm right down to his toes and he rather enjoyed the sensation.

Spurred on by his antics, two other crewmen decided to down their drinks in a single swallow.  Only Katz managed the feat, but he swayed rather dangerously and two of the women had to help him remain seated.

“I see you’re tougher than you look.”  The dark skinned woman smiled, her tone of voice was one of open admiration.

“Oh Mina, you ain’t got no idea how tough the kid is.  You’re a bloody roach ain’t ya?”  Ort laughed good naturedly as he kissed her cheek.

“I’m still sober enough to kick your ass old man.”  Dilandau shot back with a slight chuckle to his voice, rather surprised that the insult didn’t annoy him.  “Name your challenge.”  He made to rise from his seat but a strong hand fell on his shoulder and pushed him back down.  Glancing over, he saw Gaddes leaning over and the darker man shook his head.

“No drunken fighting.  The Boss would kill me.”

“Worried about me Fanelian?”

“I’m worried about Ort.”  That sparked several laughs from around the table, not least of all from Ort himself.  “Now drink and relax kid.  You need to unwind a little.”

“Take off those silly goggles and let us see your lovely face.”  The blonde next to him purred, reaching out to touch his uninjured cheek.  Dilandau caught her hand in his, barely stopping himself from throwing her from the table for daring to touch him uninvited, especially his face.  Not even his precious Slayers dared to do that without invitation. 

“I…need them to see.”  He managed to somehow keeping his voice calm despite the sudden flash of raw fury he’d felt.  “And I don’t like people touching me.”  As he said that, he released her hand none too gently and was somewhat mollified when she eased away just a little while rubbing her wrist.

“Oooh a temper.  I like them fiery.”  The dark haired beauty smiled and moved closer, making Dilandau eye her warily, especially when he saw the naked hunger in her eyes.  While he was used to this sort of reaction from people, he wasn’t used to having to restrain his actions in rejecting them.  Most people who made unwelcome advances quickly found themselves in the medical bay with injuries of varying severity depending on how much they’d annoyed him.  Most foolish would be suitors simply received broken bones, though one persistent captain had lost a hand for daring to take liberties.

While Folken had tolerated the violence of his rejections, fully aware that someone in the boy’s position had to send a clear message; the young captain knew that such actions wouldn’t be accepted here.  It simply wasn’t worth risking this newfound sense of belonging he’d been gifted with.  Besides, these women were no threat; they could be warned away with simple glares.

Doing his best to ignore the advances or the looks in several female eyes, he took another sip of the drink, telling himself that the alcohol was worth tolerating the dark woman at the very least.  Riom however seemed to be more than tenacious in ensuring that the youngest member of the crew indulge in this strange hazing ritual.  He waited until the teenager had finished his second glass and enjoying the growing heat in his belly before leaning across the table.

“So kid, have you ever had a massage?”  Dilandau blinked in confusion at the question.  The conversation flowing around them had nothing to do with what had just been asked and his mind was just foggy enough from the alcohol to take a moment to process the words.

“Massage?  Of course.”  All pilots had access to masseuses.  When one’s body was subjected regularly to the physical stress the Alseides put on a pilot during flight, massages were mandatory; especially after so many hours in a cockpit.  Dilandau had one specially reserved just for him whenever he required.  Most likely, Cass had died when the Vionne was destroyed.  It was a terrible loss as far as he was concerned because the man had magic fingers and could find overtaxed muscles the young captain hadn’t even known existed. 

“Miriam here is amazing.”  He motioned towards a shorter woman with soft curves and a welcome smile.  “She’ll make you feel like a new man, won’t you Miriam?”  The woman nodded, her smile becoming even more welcoming in a way that made Dilandau’s hackles rise.  Massages for him had always been very professional.  Of course he’d heard of several soldiers who saw the masseuses as little more than skilled whores, but the concept failed to appeal to the albino.  They were there to aid the pilots and do their job.  If the pilot wanted to get laid, there were actual whores or any number of willing partners for that.  He’d also made it damn clear to his Slayers that such behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. 

“I’m fine, thank you for your concern.”  This politeness thing was going to kill him.  There simply wasn’t enough alcohol available to force him to tolerate these pathetic attempts at seduction. 

“Are you sure?” The woman sidled over to him and reached out to stroke along his leg but he’d had enough of this game.  In a flash, his knife was drawn and slammed down into the table top with a loud thunk which immediately caught the attention of the entire group.  Miriam let out a little scream of shock, her hand frozen an inch above Dilandau’s thigh.  She was too scared to so much as blink as he glared at her coldly.

“I am quite sure.”  He growled softly, ensuring that she was properly cowed before turning his molten glare on Riom.  “While I appreciate your efforts, give up.  I have no interest in woman and your continued attempts to have them seduce me will not be tolerated.”  Ugh, he sounded like Schezar, speaking all proper like some high blown Astorian.  He’d be so proud of his little brother.  All Dilandau wanted to do was punch someone in the face and at the moment, Riom was looking like a viable candidate.

“But… are you sure?  These lovely ladies would be happy to-”  Before Riom could finish whatever stupid speech he had in mind, Dilandau leaned over, grabbed Gaddes by the collar and before the man could react, pulled him over.  His lips seized Gaddes’ surprised mouth in a searing kiss that left the entire table with their jaws agape.

For his part, Gaddes accepted the kiss, thinking for a moment that he was stuck in another dream.  Those lips were just as he’d imagined, soft as rose petals.  Beneath their softness was a searing heat which only deepened when Dilandau opened his mouth, his tongue sliding between the second in commands slack lips and stroked languorously along his own.

His mouth was filled with fire that sizzled along his nerves and sent wild sparks dancing through his skin and it was every bit as good as it had been in the dream.  Dilandau tasted like wine, flames and raw passion.  A heady combination that the older man drank in eagerly, more so when strong fingers reached out and stroked through his hair, changing the angle of his head just enough to deepen the kiss.  He could feel it all the way down to his toes and when the youth finally pulled away, all he wanted to do was grab that lithe young body and pull him onto his lap and lose himself in that silken flesh.

Favouring Gaddes with a heated smile, Dilandau then rose to his feet and reached across the still stunned table to snatch a bottle of wine from its brothers.

“Yes, Riom.  I’m quite sure that I’m homosexual.”

“Well… er… so long as you’re sure.”  The stout man murmured, his eyes round as saucers.  Ort looked over at Pyle and held out his hand with a grin.

“I called it.  Pay up.”  Pyle flashed the albino a look of utter annoyance as he dug out his coin purse.

“Really kid?  This is half my pay.”

“There is a long list of men who could attest to that claim.”  He stated levelly, not bothering to mention that all but one were dead now.  Damn what a depressing thought.  “Next time be smarter with your money.  I will leave you all to your amusements.”  Nodding his head to them all, he excused himself from the table and left the hangar, wanting to be alone with the bottle and his memories. 

As he left, he could hear the others laughing at Gaddes’ no doubt still stunned expression and he allowed himself a little smirk.  The man had been a surprisingly good kisser.

 

*********************

 

Palos cursed Sir Allen with every breath as he clutched at his stomach and shuffled around the hulking bulk of the Crusade.  It was his fault that he was sick, he just knew it.  That gloating bastard had done it on purpose to toy with him and send him back to Palas in disgrace! 

The knight was hiding something.  He just knew it and dammit if he wasn’t going to find out what it was.  Granted, his stomach was making such a task nearly impossible, causing him to dart into the bushes every few minutes to either relieve himself or double over in pain from the cramps.  Whatever he’d been given had been vicious and his system was exhausted from the excessive purging.  His clothes hung from his limbs and there was no strength left in his body.  The ride back to Palas was going to be exhausting, likely forcing him to stop regularly to rest and doubling his time.

The town healer, if she even deserved such a title had said that he’d ingested dantra berries, a rather strong toxic variety which grew rather plentifully throughout the swamp.  Apparently he could expect his symptoms to last another day or two at the very least, leaving him badly dehydrated.  The old crone had then gone on to lecture him about eating strange berries and the dangers that posed, as if he were some stupid child.

Oh he’d make Sir Allen pay for this.  He’d do everything in his power to ruin his place at court, to smear his name from one end of Astoria to the other.  It didn’t matter who his friends were or what he’d done during the war.  No one made a fool of a member of House Varinth!  No one!

The sound of footsteps made him quickly duck behind one of the massive levistones on the ship, cautious of any guards that might be patrolling the perimeter.  He’d heard that all of them would be inside, celebrating something or other… likely his poisoning.  It had been the perfect opportunity to approach and look around.  There had to be something he could use, some reason for the knight to poison him beyond the man’s obvious petty jealousy.

“I can’t believe you just sat there Gaddes.”  A deep voice grumbled in irritation, the words somewhat garbled from alcohol and as they drew closer, Palos could tell that their steps were uneven, staggering slightly.

“I was surprised Riom, everyone was.  Would you have done much else if the kid has turned around and shoved his tongue down your throat?”  Oh lovely, here he thought he might find something interesting and instead he gets some drunken crewmen arguing over a shared whore.

“I’d have punched the poncy little bastard that’s what I’d have done.”  The deeper voice sputtered indignantly and as they drew closer Palos recognized them as the short man from earlier today, and Sir Allen’s second in command.  Maybe there might be something worthwhile here after all.

“Poncy?  How many times has he kicked your ass across the hangar?  If you’d punched him, he’d have killed you, and even if he didn’t, Allen would have.  You know how protective he is of him.”  Gaddes sounded more amused than upset and Palos shifted slightly, moving deeper into the shadows cast by the stones, glad that there were thick clouds blocking the moon tonight.

“Obviously, if he’s willing to leave Astoria to protect the little psychopath.”  Riom grumbled angrily.  “Ugh, I’m more surprised than anything.  Imagine, getting chased all over Gaea by that brat and his little pack of wolves only to find out that we’d been running from a-”

“Really?  Does it matter Riom?”  Gaddes interrupted with open irritation now.  “The kid’s an amazing warrior and honestly, so were his Dragon Slayers.  It’s too bad we were on opposite sides of the war because I think they would have made incredible allies otherwise.  What he decides to do in bed is his own damn business and I don’t know why you’re all upset over it.  It’s not like he’s made any advances on you… has he?”

“Of course not!!”  Riom practically yelled.  “It’s… it’s just not right.  I mean, he showers with us!”

“And in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s started using the showers long before any of you lot get up.  Maybe he got sick of a bunch of old men commenting on how pretty he was.  Yeah, I know you guys were just teasing him, but consider what he was used to in Zaibach.  That would sound more threatening than joking to him until he got to know you.”

“Does Allen know that his little brother’s a-” 

“Yes, he does and he doesn’t care.  I would also suggest you drop the derogatory language and change your attitude.  If the kid hears you insulting him and takes offense, none of us will be able to keep him off you.  Remember, he saved your life back in the swamp.  Try to be a little more understanding of different cultures.”

“But it’s wrong!”  Gaddes sighed at Riom’s protest, the sound was rather world weary and there was a soft thud of someone leaning heavily against the levistone Palos was hiding behind.

“Actually, the kid explained the reasoning behind it and I have to admit that it’s pretty sound from their point of view.  You should sit down with him and talk about this rather than getting your back up.  At least treat him with the same tolerance he’s shown you.  Personally, I was surprised that he left the party as quietly as he did.  Two weeks ago, that knife would have been buried in your throat rather than the table.”

“I… I just … I mean, I like the kid.  Jeture help me, he’s grown on me, but I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“Why do you have to deal with it?”  Gaddes sounded honestly confused.  “It’s not like he’s going to go out wenching with you and sorry, but you’re not his type so there’s no worry there.  He’s also not the demonstrative type so you don’t even need to see it.  The only reason he kissed me was to make a point to you so you’d leave him alone.  I know that, which is why I’m not at all upset, though honestly, you have to admit, he was the prettiest one at the table.  So I figure I won either way.”

“Either way?”

“Yeah, I’d bet against Pyle too.”  Both men burst into laughter and began moving towards the bushes as they continued their argument, though much of the anger had been drained away.  Palos was left leaning against the hull of the ship, his knees barely able to hold him up in his shock.  His mind was reeling with the enormity of what he’d just heard and he struggled to put it all together.

Sir Allen Schezar, famed Knight of Caeli and hero of the Destiny War was harbouring a Dragon Slayer… from the sounds of it, THE Dragon Slayer, the missing Dilandau Albatou.  Worse… the Zaibach monster was his brother and the knight was planning to defect for him?  This… this had to be a trick.  There was no way that he’d learn something this perfect.  It would destroy that damn pompous knight beyond any redemption!! 

His first thought was to inform the traitor that he knew his secret.  Black mail the lofty noble and put him in his place, or use him for further advancement.  After all, the man was close to not only the Astorian royal family, but the Duke of Freid and King of Fanelia as well.  He would be a powerful pawn to manipulate.  Unfortunately, if he really did have Captain Albatou with him then there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be burned to death in his sleep for his audacity. 

He’d seen the fires which had engulfed Palas when that red guymelef had torn through the market place.  Entire blocks had been reduced to ashes, people burned to death in their beds or crushed by falling rubble as they fled.  It had been a nightmare for the entire city, and now one of its greatest defenders was protecting the beast?

No, he couldn’t take that risk.  The monster had to be stopped.  He’d be lauded as a hero for this, perhaps even awarded a knighthood!  Bringing Zaibach’s crimson beast to justice would put his name in the annals of history.  He could almost taste the accolades which would be piled on him.  Wealth and the power would surely follow.

There was no time to waste!  Moving as quickly as his exhausted body could.  He raced back to the inn and packed his belongings, not even glancing at the blue bag or the scroll it held inside.  Time was of the essence and he could almost picture a deathly pale form with eyes the colour of flame stalking through the night towards him, that terrifying mad laugh would be the last thing he ever heard.  No, he wouldn’t fail!  He’d warn his country of the foul knight’s betrayal!

Within the hour, he was on his horse and racing down the darkened paths north towards the capitol, pushing both his mount and his body until both were ready to collapse into exhaustion.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d travelled but the night was still dark with only the faintest lightening on the edge of the horizon to warn of the upcoming dawn.  It was a miracle that his horse hadn’t stumbled and thrown him, or run right off the road and into the brush.  His mad race through the darkness had been amateurish, borne of pure panic.  What was he thinking?  He had no supplies for the long trek back to Palas and his body had been pushed beyond its limits.  Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he found that he could no longer support his own weight and in his single minded focus, he’d soiled himself several times.  Foulness coated his saddle and caked his pants but he was beyond caring.  Rather than cleaning himself, he simply fell to the ground with a soft whimper, unable to even build himself a simple fire. 

Some dim part of his mind tried desperately to prod him back to his feet, aware that if he continued on like this, he wouldn’t survive to reach his destination.  He was sick, alone and unable to defend himself on this backwater road.  Any minute now, that pale demon would be coming for him, setting the forest ablaze in his wake.  He was going to die out here, losing his single perfect opportunity to become a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up... 
> 
> Dilandau does something rather impulsive, landing people in trouble and a familiar face is reluctantly dragged into the game.


	12. Joy Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any landing you can walk away from right? Perhaps this isn't the best time for a talk about trust... or to act impulsively and really, never eat anything Dilandau has been around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or its characters. I'm not making any monies. I wish I was.
> 
> So, working my way into a nice solid adult rating! Woot. I also re-watched a few episodes of the show and I'd forgotten how friggin big the Crusade is. I think Allen lied about not having room for Dilandau to have his own cabin. He likely just doesn't want the brat unsupervised... I can sort of understand. Hope people are enjoying the story, comments are always appreciated. Personally, I'm loving the interactions between Dilandau and Gaddes. The two seem to work well together, especially since Allen seems to have gotten his "big brother" stick up his ass.
> 
> Also, I'm totally speculating with how Dragenergist comes to be, They never really explain why dragons have these damn rocks in their chests in the show. If I'm way off base, blame Folken for lying... the traitorous bastard.

Gaddes groaned and clutched at his head as he struggled to sit up, not yet daring to open his eyes.  Jeture’s balls, what had he drunk last night?  There were some dim memories of laughter, arguing with Riom outside, trying to piss on a bush and ending up hitting a stray raccoon.  He could remember more laughter… searing lips on his, crimson eyes glinting with desire while a table fell silent in shock.  Oh crap… forget what he’d drunk, what had he done!?  He couldn’t have… wouldn’t have… the kid would have killed him!

                Opening his eyes, he risked a glance at the cot next to his and found that it was empty, the sheets made with their usual military precision.  The damn things were so tight that he was positive that he could bounce a coin off of them.  Well, small miracle.  He’d woken up alive, so either the kid had been too drunk to care… not likely if he was already up and likely working out as usual, or Dilandau had enjoyed it.  While he sort of found himself hoping for the latter, he couldn’t deny that it would likely open up a whole new set of problems for him to deal with.

                “Allen’s gonna kill me.”  He grumbled, fully aware that the story had likely already circulated through the crew several times, likely being embellished until they had him bending the damn brat over the table or something.  The idea was meant to be horrifying, but he felt a stirring of interest in his groin at the prospect and glared down at his crotch in betrayal.  “Don’t you even start.”  He growled.  “You’ve gotten me into a lot of trouble mister.”

                Groaning loudly, he rolled out of bed, wondering which Schezar was going to kill him first.  The instant his bare feet touched the floor that problem became moot as he frowned in confusion, feeling the vibration in the metal.  What the hell?  In fact, now that he thought about it, he could hear the low drone of the engines and thrum of the propellers.  They were flying?!

                Sure, he knew that they were heading to the energist mine today, but so early?  Why didn’t anyone wake him?

                Panicked, he leaped out of bed and raced out of the room, pausing only long enough to ensure that his trousers were done up before bursting onto the bridge.

                Kio was curled up in a corner, snoring loudly as a long line of drool trickled out of the corner of his mouth.   It looked like he’d been there for a while and didn’t as much as twitch at the second in commands rather loud entrance.   At the helm was Dilandau, confidently manning the wheel as if this was the sort of thing he did every morning. 

                “What the bloody hell?!”  Gaddes blurted out loudly, his still hungover brain struggling to understand just how wrong this whole picture actually was.  “Why is Kio asleep?  Why are you flying?  Where are we?”

                Dilandau favoured him with a glance over his shoulder and a welcoming smile which likely didn’t bode well at all.   When the brat was in high spirits, something was usually on fire.

                “To answer your questions in order,” He began, motioning vaguely towards the sleeping pilot.  “Kio is asleep because I drugged him.  I’m flying so that we don’t crash to our deaths and we’re in southern Fanelia, just about to begin our descent.  Could you adjust the levitation down to 20 percent for me?  It’s that dial over by your left on that angled panel.”

                “I know what bloody panel it’s on, what I want to know is why?!”  It was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this crap.  Where the hell was Allen?  Dilandau only seemed to look even more amused as he listened to Gaddes sputter incoherently to himself.

                “Likely because that’s where the engineer who built the ship put it.  I do agree though, it’s a stupid idea, putting it out of the pilots reach.  What can you expect from a backwards country?”

“You know what I mean!”  Yes, Gaddes knew that he was yelling and knew that he was making a fool of himself but at this point, he was too confused and surprised to care.  By now, Dilandau looked as if he was biting back his laughter and was drinking in every bit of the older man’s emotional display.  Folken had never been so easy to rile, granted, he’d never hijacked the Vione.

His amusement was interrupted as they hit a pocket of warm air and the levistones abruptly shifted the balance of the ship, making it sway rather sickeningly to the left.  It took several long and rather heart wrenching seconds to get it levelled out again and Dilandau mentally reminded himself to keep a closer eye on the temperature of the stones.  To die in a leviship crash would be more than a little embarrassing.

“Because I need an energist.  I thought that this was obvious.”  The Dragonslayer captain finally remembered to answer the irate crewman, but was so intent on handling the leviship that he almost didn’t notice Gaddes coming up behind him until a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.  The albino had just enough time to quickly hit the autopilot lever, aborting the descent and forcing them to cruise at this altitude before being pulled away from the controls.

                “What the hell is wrong with you?!”  Gaddes practically screamed in his face.  “I mean seriously, what is wrong with you!?  Fanelia?  What, you want to burn the ashes and call it a job well done?    The fucking war is over!  Let them try to rebuild their damn lives!”  The larger man drew back his hand, ready to punch the much smaller youth but the look in those smoldering crimson eyes stopped him cold.

                “I have no interest in this pathetic little country or its ruler.”  Dilandau hissed softly, his gaze never leaving Gaddes’.  “I plan to be in and out before anyone notices we’re even here.  That’s why we’re so far south.  Our initial scouting of the country before the war showed no villages of note anywhere near this area.  Given the current economic state of the country, I doubt they’ve decided to expand since then.”

                “They should have shown you that there aren’t any mines either.  So why are you even here?  Jeture Dilandau, do you know what Van will do to you if he finds you here?”  Strong hands grabbed the youth by his collar, nearly lifting him up off of the ground and shaking him.  Had Gaddes been at all in his right mind, he would never have dared lay hands on the albino, but all he was seeing was the danger looming around them. 

“The brat king and his demon armour are in the capitol helping to rebuild.  He won’t know we’re here so long as you don’t do anything stupid.” 

“Me?  Me do something stupid?  This coming from the kid who can be tracked from the Mystic Moon by the bloody trail of fire and death he leaves behind?”  Gaddes was yelling now and not particularly caring who heard him. 

“Yeah, me who did all that and is still alive!”

“Only because of Allen, your brother.  The same damn brother who has put everything on the line to defend you against the world.  The brother you’re pissing on by pulling a stunt like this!”  They were nose to nose, glaring at each other and both shouting loud enough to wake the dead.  Neither one of them was willing to back down or acknowledge that fighting in the bridge of a flying leviship likely wasn’t the best of ideas

“It’s because of that that I want the best for my damn Alseides!”  Dilandau shot back furiously.  “It’s bad enough that I’m using a subpar machine, I won’t add in the extra risk of a second rate energist!”  That caught the older man’s attention and he pulled back slightly in confusion.

“What do you mean?  It’s just rocks.”  Apparently he’d said the wrong thing because the Zaibch captain sneered in utter derision at his ignorance.

“Just rocks.”  He scoffed.  “That’s why Zaibach technology will always be superior.”

“You mass produced those monsters.  There’s nothing special about them.”  Gaddes wasn’t willing to back off quite so easily, especially when it meant conceding that Zaibach had done anything worthy of praise.

“Ever wonder why my Dragonslayers were so superior?”  Our melef’s were just the same as all of the others.  Yes we had the stealth cloaks, but we still managed to consistently outperform every other squad in the Four Demon army.  Why do you think that?  Yes, a lot of that was my superior leadership and training, but we used a superior power source than those idiots.  Even my greenest Slayers were able to outmanoeuver our rivals on any given day.”

“Because you used something other than energist?”  Gaddes’ anger had vanished now, replaced by open curiosity.  Dilandau’s smile was back as he shook his head and mischief glinted in the depths of his eyes.

“Energist radiates an energy left over from when Atlantis was originally destroyed.  Think of it as mystical  fallout which has built up in rather specific rock deposits over the millennia.”  Gaddes nodded his head, unsure of where this was going.  “This stuff just sits there in the earth, slowly breaking down over time and getting absorbed into Gaea itself.  Now, in some areas, you find creatures like dragons.  The dragons gather in places where the ground is rich in deposits of energist and they eat the rocks much the way several animals do, using them to break down the food in their gizzards or bellies.” 

“Animals don’t eat rocks.”  Gaddes argued, earning himself a look of mild exasperation from the albino.

“Some do, honestly, your education is atrocious.  Do try to follow what I’m saying and not interrupt.  Now, over time, the energist that these dragons have ingested coalesces into a single stone and not only is it condensed energist, but it’s also been drawing on the life force and energy of that particular dragon for centuries.  It becomes ... let’s call it a hub of their energy and when you install it into a guymelef it’s like comparing a match to a bonfire.  This is Dragenergist and there’s no greater power source on Gaea.”

“Folken taught you this didn’t he?”  It sounded like Folken to Gaddes, full of twisted logic and fanciful words.  Dilandau didn’t bother to deny this, instead, he leaned against the control panel and crossed his arms over his chest indolently. 

“I’ll put it how I used to explain it to my Dragonslayers.  The energist in the ground that any idiot can harvest is leftover form long dead dragons.  Its energy has been leeched back into the earth.  By the time it’s harvested, it’s little better than its original form of pretty glowing rocks.  Sure, these rocks are capable of drawing and focussing vast amounts of energy, but that’s they’re shadows of their former strength.  Now the Dragenergist found in live dragons has been soaking in the lifeblood of the dragon all of its life.  It’s filled with all of the dragons passions, its rage, its killer instinct, its strength and raw power all heightened in the last moments of its life.”  Dilandau’s eyes shone as he spoke and he straightened up, his hands becoming rather animated as he gestured with his words, adding emphasis to the poetic image he was painting.  Gaddes could easily see how a bunch of impressionable fifteen year olds, already drowning in idol worship had been pulled along with the young captain.  Jeture help them if the kid ever stayed sane long enough to lead a nation.   He imagined that this must have been what a young Dornkirk was like, and that idea filled him with deep dread. 

“So… you’re not after a mine, you’re after a dragon.”  Gaddes murmured softly, earning himself a grin from the youth.

“Exactly.  Its life will be sacrificed so that I can better protect this crew.”  Something burned behind the kids eyes that wasn’t quite sane, but it didn’t immediately get Gaddes’ hackles up.  More, it reminded him of the look a mother bear would have when someone endangered her cubs. 

“And Allen went along with this?”  He already knew the answer but felt that he should ask anyway.  Unsurprisingly, the brat turned away and took the wheel in his hands once again, flicking off the autopilot and resuming their descent.

“He didn’t specifically say no.”

“So he doesn’t know.”  Gaddes confirmed tiredly.  The Boss was right, the kid was utterly insubordinate.  “Where is he anyway?  Why hasn’t anyone come up here to see what all of the yelling is about?”

“Katz is in the engine room and can’t hear us.  Kio is asleep, who else are you wanting to be here?”

“Oh I don’t know… Allen maybe?”  It was hard keeping his temper in the face of such rebelliousness and oh how he wanted to knock the brat out, but there was the whole thing about not knowing how to land a leviship himself… or fly one for that matter.  Until Kio woke up, the kid was untouchable and he knew it. 

“They’re back at the village as planned.  You were hung over and no one could wake you so Schezar said to let you sleep it off.  Honestly, how much did you even drink last night?”  The curious look the kid threw him seemed to be asking “how much do you remember?” 

“Not enough to forget you shocking the hell out of the crew.  You could have warned a guy you know.”

“I don’t seem to remember you objecting at all.”  Dilandau returned smugly.  “In fact, you seemed to enjoy yourself.”  This time it was Gaddes who turned away, his cheeks colouring slightly despite his best efforts.  “We’ll have to try that again sometime, perhaps with less of an audience.”  He added lightly, adjusting several levers before glancing over his shoulder again.  “You might want to sit down.  I haven’t tried to land a leviship in years and this isn’t exactly soft terrain.”

“You hijacked our ship and you’re not sure how to land it?”

“Must you make it seem like a bad idea?”

“It WAS a bad idea!!”

“Live a little Fanelian.”

“By DYING!?”

“I notice you’re not sitting down”  Gaddes took the hint and stopped arguing long enough to grab one of the bolted down chairs and haul himself into it, grabbing onto the rarely used restraints.  He spared a moment to stare at the long straps of leather, noticing how tangled they were.  Rather than waste his time trying to unknot them, he simply clutched onto as many as he could at once, closed his eyes and prayed rather loudly to Jeture to get him through this alive.  “If I die, I’m haunting your scrawny ass!”  He spit out.

“Great, the more the merrier.”  Dilandau might have said more but was interrupted by the sound of a tree scraping the underbelly of the ship and it was jostled sharply to the left.  The Dragonslayer captain was nearly knocked off of his feet but clung to the wheel tenaciously, spinning it hard to the right as he tried to level them out.  Another tree was felled, jostling them sharply, followed by several more.  Gaddes was quickly becoming convinced that they were plowing their way through the forest, leaving a swath of destruction behind them.  Really, it was hardly surprising given who was at the helm.  All they needed to do now was start a fire and the whole set up would be complete.

“The Boss is gonna kill you for this, you know that right?”  Gaddes yelled over the din.

“Shut up or these stupid trees will do the job for us!”  Dilandau yelled back, pulling several levers back as he tried to get the nose of the ship up.  They hit something hard and unyielding that threatened to break Gaddes’ spine despite being on the chair, making him curse creatively and at length.  He could only stare in horror as the teenager was finally knocked off his feet and thrown clear of the wheel which took the opportunity to spin wildly.

Another bone jarring impact knocked the wind out of both of them and there was an impressive crash as the leviship stopped moving and quickly fell silent.  Gaddes could only hope that it was because somewhere down below in the engine room, Katz had killed the engine.  Granted, after that landing, they might have very easily have lost the entire engine room a mile or so back.

“Kid… you ok?”  He found himself grinding out the words as he looked over at the sprawled out body of the youth who lay pressed against the prow control panel.  Carefully, Dilandau shifted his position, quickly taking note of every bump and bruise, ensuring that nothing major had been damaged.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.  Cause I’m gonna kill you.”  Rather than feel at all threatened by those words, the young captain instead began to laugh.  It wasn’t his crazy “I’m gonna burn everything to ash” laugh; instead it was one more in keeping with a stupid kid who’d just survived some reckless adventure.  Gaddes knew that particular sort of laugh well enough from his own life’s misadventures and despite how thoroughly pissed he was, he couldn’t help but join in.

Standing slowly, he carefully tested out his legs and found them wobbly but working.  The floor wasn’t level which added to the difficulty in walking, but he managed to make his way over to where the kid was still carefully stretching out each limb.  At his approach, the lithe body froze and he watched as wide crimson eyes rose, doing their best to look innocent and angelic.

“You are nuts kid.  Absolutely nuts, but I gotta say, you keep things interesting.”  Heaving a particularly world weary sigh, the second in command then extended his hand to help the brat to his feet.  To his utter surprise, Dilandau actually accepted the hand up, stumbling to his feet and leaning against Gaddes rather heavily for a moment.   Struggling to balance, Gaddes wrapped an arm around Dilandau’s back to keep them both from tumbling over, not realizing how he was pressing them together intimately until it was too late.

It would be a lie to say that the older man didn’t enjoy the feeling of that strong slender form pressed so closely against his own.  He could feel the warmth of the brat’s body through their clothes, noticing every point of contact with a sort of hyper awareness.  This was made even worse when those crimson eyes took on a rather knowing look and the brat shifted his hips, purposefully brushing himself rather intimately against the second in command. 

Common sense, hell, any sense warned him to back away.  This wasn’t a dream and he certainly couldn’t pass this off as being drunk, but he could feel his pulse throbbing through his veins as his heartbeat sped up, sending more blood to some rather specific locations.  There was no doubt in the world that the kid was fully aware of his interest seeing as how their pelvis’ were pressed so tightly together but Gaddes didn’t seem to be the only one affected.

Those slender hips rocked slightly, stroking their groins together through their clothes as Dilandau reached up a hand to trace his fingertips along the edge of Gaddes’ jawline.

“What… what are you doing?”  The older man murmured, staring transfixed at those soft silken lips, noticing how pale pink they were and how tantalizing the tip of his tongue was when it darted out to moisten them, leaving a glistening trail he was eager to taste.  Would the boy still taste of vino and fire?

“If you have to ask, it’s been far too long.”  Dilandau murmured, his fingers tracing their way across the older man’s lips, teasing him by leaving little shards of sparking sensations in their passing and urging the taller man to lower his head.

“I should punch you for what you just did…”  Gaddes struggled to hold onto his anger as he drew closer to those lips, feeling the heat of the Dragonslayer’s breath ghosting across his flesh.  Eyes which shone like molten rubies watched him through lowering snowy lashes, daring him to take that last step, teasing him.

“There are much better things you could be doing with your hands.”  Was the purring reply as a hot tongue closed the distance between them, tracing the lips his fingers had so recently caressed.  It was like being touched by lightning and he could feel his entire body tingle in pleasure, causing him to moan loudly in desire.  Not wanting to hold himself back any longer, Gaddes seized those lips with his own, kissing the albino fiercely with all of his pent up passion and thrilled at the feel of that beautiful mouth opening up for him, welcoming him into his hot sweet flesh.

The dream, the drunken kiss last night, they had nothing on this.  Dilandau met his kiss with equal ferocity, the two of them playfully fighting for dominance even as the youth’s body seemed to melt against his own.  One strong hand slid around to the back of his head, long fingers tangling in dark hair, urging him to continue.  The other hand reached behind Gaddes’ back, scratching down the length of his spine, sending sizzling shocks through his flesh.

Gaddes had kissed many women in the past.  Some were so shy he always felt as if he was taking advantage of them in some way.  Others acted as if they were trying to devour his face with voracious hunger.  They were more slobber than anything and their tongues were like eels trying to wriggle their way down his throat.  Dilandau was simply fire.  There was no reluctance or sense of yielding in his kiss, but it also wasn’t some grand battle where he tried to prove himself either.  Instead, it was a sharing of searing passion, a challenge willfully given and accepted, daring the second in command to push it further.

He’d never been with a man before.  Of course there’s been the odd temptation and crushes over the years, but he’d never dared to step over that fine line.  Astoria might be willing to turn a blind eye to the antics of the lower classes but that didn’t mean that it was something to be sought after.  Besides, it had always been easier, more acceptable to lose himself in the soft embrace of a local whore or village girl.

Dilandau hadn’t been brought up with those insecurities and as a result felt no shame in what he was or who he desired.  As such, there was no hesitation on his part, no fearful holding back of his desires.  Not that his personality would have ever bent to the whims of others.  What he wanted, he seized without hesitation or concern for repercussions.  Right now, what he wanted was the handsome and roguish second in command.

“You could have gotten us killed.”  Gaddes murmured in between heated kisses, loving how Dilandau’s flexible body let his hips rock in that cruel rhythm without disrupting their kisses or pulling any other body part away.  He could feel the teenager’s chuckle vibrate through his flesh as fingers slid beneath his shirt to stroke heated skin teasingly.

“But don’t you feel so much more alive?”  The words were teasing but oh so true and with a loud groan Gaddes reached down to cup his hands around the youths beautifully rounded ass, crushing their groins together with the most maddening friction imaginable.  The brat was right, he hadn’t felt this alive in a long time and he intended to never forget this sensation.

This time it was Dilandau who moaned.  The sound was rich, throaty and went straight to Gaddes’ groin.  His arousal was so hard that it bordered on pain and with every stroke of their rocking hips, he could feel that the Zaibach youth was in much the same predicament.  He wasn’t going to last much longer and he doubted that the kid would either.  Jeture, how was he going to explain to Allen that he’d had sex with his little brother on Crusades helm?  No matter how gorgeous or willing said little brother was, this was the sort of thing that put a wedge in a friendship… not that he particularly cared at this moment.

“G… gaddes?”  The voice wasn’t Dilandau’s and it was filled with groggy confusion rather than searing lust.  The second in command came very close to ignoring it altogether in favour of the eagerly writhing body in his arms but the damn voice persisted.  “Gaddes?  What… what happened?  Why is everything… spinning?  Why am I on the floor?”  Kio… it was Kio finally waking up from whatever drugs Dilandau had given him.  Dammit!  Five more minutes!  That’s all he’d needed was five more minutes!  Why did the world hate him?!

Speaking of the little homicidal ball of lust, Dilandau was growling in equal frustration, his thoughts echoing Gaddes’ save for he was also seriously giving consideration to putting the knife in his boot to good use and silencing that interrupting voice forever.

“….ugh… my head… Gaddes… are you fighting again?  Don’t fight guys… the boss wants us to get along…”  There was a great deal of rustling as the downed pilot struggled to get up, his drugged brain not registering the two would be lovers properly.

“At least my Dragonslayers knew when to leave a damn room.”  Dilandau grumbled softly, giving Gaddes one last heated kiss before pulling away with a soft growl.  All the older man could do was stare at the beautiful picture of Dilandau denied.  The youths pale skin was flushed, his cheeks taking on an almost sweet looking rosy hue and his lips were beautifully swollen and dark pink from the bruising kisses.  Those eyes of his seemed to glow as if they were on fire, making it almost impossible to look away and when they met Gaddes’, they silently promised that this aborted tryst was far from over.

“Well, you did drug the man.”  The second in command replied quietly, his voice sounded far huskier than usual and he could only imagine what he looked like to the awakening crewman.  “It’s not like he had a choice to leave.”

Not quite ready to turn around and face his long-time friend, wholly because of his rather obvious state of arousal and NOT because of the beautiful epitome of thwarted lust standing in front of him, Gaddes spoke over his shoulder.

“Are you ok Kio?  You took a nasty blow to the head.”  It was a safe bet that in all the jostling around the man had likely bruised his skull at least once.  “We hit some sort of air pocket and you got thrown by the wheel.”  Gaddes had no idea why he was covering for the kid.  Dilandau had done something utterly stupid which had nearly gotten them all killed, but here he was protecting him… and for what?  The hope of a lay?  No, be honest… the hope of a truly spectacular lay.  Well, that and the fact that if it got out that the brat had knowingly pulled off this stupid stunt, the crew would never trust him again.

Shooting said brat a look which said that he should appreciate the web of lies about to be woven on his behalf, Gaddes focussed his mind on images of Mole-man dancing around naked, hoping that that would drain away his libido quickly.  Ugh… it was a truly hideous image to behold but he could indeed feeling his desire drain away, leaving in its place a deep sense of nausea.  Some things simply couldn’t be unseen.

At least the Dilandau had the benefit of a long heavy coat which he could simply close around himself, sparing himself from the mental trauma Gaddes had to indulge in.  Life simply wasn’t fair.

Once he could safely turn around without revealing what he’d been up to, he took a step back from the kid and turned to face his confused crewmate.

“Do you remember anything?”  Walking was still somewhat difficult, but Kio was still too disoriented to notice.  At least he didn’t have to feign his concern as he crouched down next to his friend and waved some fingers in front of his eyes.  “How many am I holding up?”

“Four… I lost the wheel?  How did we land?”  Gaddes was holding up three fingers and sighed softly.

“The kid got us down.  Not gracefully, but he got us down.”  The second in command spared the brat a short glare.  Not only had he put the crew in danger, but now he’d likely be rewarded for it.  The little bastard had better be grateful for this.

Indeed, Dilandau was more than a little shocked to have the man explain way what had happened as if the Dragonslayer had done nothing wrong.  It was an act of solidarity which he hadn’t been expecting at all and upon seeing that the pilot was likely concussed, he quickly walked over to the man and looked into his eyes.  Rather than argue or try to keep the eager little poisoner away, Gaddes stepped back, letting him put his first aid skills to use.

With careful fingers, Dilandau felt along the man’s skull, doing his best to ignore the way the hair felt somewhat greasy against his fingers.  When was the last time the man had bathed?  Honestly.  Just because he called these people barbarians didn’t mean they had to actually act the part.

Kio grunted softly when his fingers brushed a soft section of skull where swelling as already beginning and when Dilandau pulled his hand away, there was crimson on his fingertips.

“You have a concussion, but it’s not too bad.  Don’t’ try to stand right now.  Fanelian, do you have a cloth or something to place against the wound?  Cold water would help too.”  If they’d been in Zaibach, he’d have been able to ask for a cold pack, but such simple medical tools were practically miracles outside of the Empire.  It was a pity they didn’t even have a freezing facility on board ship or he’d be able to simply make one.  Perhaps he’d take Allen up on that joke he’d told about making some purchases from what was left of the Empire.  If Dilandau was going to spend any time with this crew, he was going to be insisting that they at least incorporate some decent technology into their lives.

“You flew?”  Kio asked again, not seeming to believe what had happened.  The question irked the young captain.  Did the man think he was incompetent?  He’d spent years on board leviships, of course he’d learned the basics of flight.  Granted, the massive Zaibach airships never landed once their initial liftoff.  They were simply too large to do so safely, so he’d never quite mastered that particular skill.  It was hardly his fault that he’d slightly misjudged the clearing he’d been aiming for.

“Yeah, we’re off course though.  I’m not quite sure where we are.”  He lied, rather glad that the man was disoriented.  Lying had never been something he was overly good at.  Folken had always seen right through him, as had General Adelphos, so he never bothered to even try.  Besides, telling the truth in all of its brutal glory was always so much more fun and annoyed many more people.

“I’ll… I’ll have to check…”  Kio struggled to get up but both Dilandau and Gaddes pushed him gently back down.

“You’re not going anywhere pilot.”  The young captain said in his most authoritative voice.  It was the one which had always made the Dragonslayers jump to attention and the effect on the Crusade pilot was pretty much the same.  “You will lay there and recover.  I don’t want you to even try to stand up for another three hours.  Gaddes, that cold cloth isn’t going to get itself.  While you’re out, get him his blanket and pillow as well.  We can’t let him sleep, but we can make him comfortable at least.”  He half expected the darker man to argue the order and point out that he was still technically in charge but instead, Gaddes simply nodded his head and raced out of the bridge, sliding slightly on the uneven floor.

A hand gripped Dilandau’s arm, catching his attention immediately and he saw Kio flash him a grateful if somewhat bleary smile.

“Thanks kid.  That’s two lives I owe you now.”  It was a good thing that guilt had never been an emotion the Madoushi had seen fit to instill in him because he simply nodded his head and smiled gently.

“Consider it me working off what I owe your crew after everything I put you all through during the war.  I’m rather sure I have quite the debt racked up.”  He meant it more as a joke, but the husky pilot smiled warmly at him and actually reached out to pat him on the shoulder.  It was likely the concussion mixed with the drug making him so relaxed around the albino, but Dilandau enjoyed the feeling of comradery being displayed between them.

“No debt.  It was war kid.  You were following your orders… sorta happily… very very happily, but they were still your orders.”  There was no need to state that he had in fact been wholly overzealous in his interpretation of said orders.  Sometimes ignorance in your allies was for the best.  “Glad you’re with us kid and… and I wanted to say that I’m sorry about your friends… I’m sure they were good kids too.” 

Dilandau felt something catch in his throat at the confession and he swallowed several times, trying to push the sensation away into that vast yawning emptiness inside his soul that his beloved family of slayers had once filled.

“Thank you.”  He murmured softly.  “They were everything to me.”  Fifteen pure and perfect lives, so callously thrown away for nothing… their screams echoing endlessly over the coms as they fell.  One after another, cut down as they screamed and begged and died…The swelling of grief forced him to close his eyes as he struggled to push it all down.  That demon armour had torn them apart in front of him, forced him to watch as their bodies were consumed by flames.  He’d been so helpless.  All of the illusions of his mortality had been stripped away in that moment and he’d looked death in the eyes and felt its hunger for him. 

Van had stripped him of his beauty, stripped him of his family and stripped him of his soul.  He’d taken everything away.  Leaving Dilandau so broken that he’d retreated into nothingness, hiding behind some stupid pathetic girl in order to survive.  Van had turned him into a coward and Dilandau would never forgive him for that.

It was the soft touch of Gaddes’ hand on his shoulder which drew him out of his downward spiral or rage and the young captain stiffened slightly, looking at the second in command then Kio.  The pilot stared at him with naked fear on his face while Gaddes looked rather tense.  Put together, he realized that he’d been lost in the fugue of madness again and likely had been for at least a few minutes. 

He also belatedly realized that he had his knife at Gaddes’ throat.  There was no memory of drawing it or attacking, but thankfully he hadn’t drawn blood.  None of them commented on it as Dilandau quickly pulled it away and sheathed the weapon.  Nodding his head to both men, he rose to his feet and walked away, needing some space to calm himself and aware that they would likely benefit from the distance as well.

To their credit, both men seemed to recover from the shock of the attack well enough, though that likely didn’t say much in the youths favour if it was such a common occurrence.

At least things were calm by the time Katz raced onto the bridge, his heavy footfalls proclaiming his arrival long before he actually passed through the door.

“Is everything ok up here?  What happened?”  It stood to note that the man was so upset that both his usually squinting eyes were actually wide open and for the first time Dilandau realized that they were a similar blue to Allen’s.  A shade or two darker, but still rather striking.

Not willing to hear again about how he’d saved the day, Dilandau strode past the hulking man towards the door.

“I’m going to check outside and make sure we didn’t land on anyone important.”  He grumbled, pulling down his goggles and arranging his hair, leaving Gaddes to tell the tale as he wished.  Heroics had always annoyed him but false heroics were even worse and to lay claim to them repeatedly left a bad taste in his mouth.  Pausing for a moment at his cabin, he grabbed his cloak and threw it over his shoulders.  The last thing he needed on top of everything else was a sun burn.

Climbing up on top of the leviship, he looked back at the long swatch of destruction his less than perfect landing had torn across the forest.  He could almost hear Guimel making some pathetic joke about any landing you could walk away from.  He’d of course be slapped soundly for daring to draw attention to a failing of their leader and Dilandau would then focus exhaustively on ensuring that his skills were up to expectations.  The Madoushi were always watching after all, always analyzing his actions and seeking any hint of weakness or instability.  That word caused a shudder to travel through his lean frame.  Instability…

What would they think of him now?  Turning his back on his glorious Empire, allying with his enemies and seeking out connections with his past, was there no low he wouldn’t indulge in?  Even worse, he was daring to form attachments with people who hadn’t been preapproved by his Masters.

It’s merely a matter of convenience.  He wanted to tell himself that.  To believe that as soon as the Madoushi were dealt with, he’d strike against those cowards who’d sold out Emperor Dornkirk’s dream and crawled on their bellies for their enemies.  He’d erase all of them along with himself, ending everything in a proper blaze of fire and glory.  Living out the rest of his days as some toy doll for Allen made him sick to his stomach and he’d rather deny him his beloved sister than condemn himself to such a fate.

Still, some traitorous voice inside him whispered.  What if you could stay?  There were other countries in Gaea, one’s who’d stayed out of the Destiny War and who’d never heard the name Dilandau Albatou.  He could travel to them and carve out a new fate for himself.  He could even journey to Azgard as his father had.  His father… who Emperor Dornkirk had murdered.  Why?  What had he known that had caused the cautious Emperor to take such drastic actions against his entire family?  It was clear that Allen didn’t know, but Allen rarely looked beneath the surface of things.  Someone had to have answers.

He toyed with the idea of actually having a future ahead of him and shuddered in trepidation.  From his earliest memories, all he’d known was battle and the understanding that he’d one day die on the point of an enemy’s blade.  It had been a strangely comforting understanding.  Why then had he felt such panic whenever that demon armour had raised its sword for the final blow?  How had it always been stopped?  Wasn’t it his destiny?  Maybe it was that inherent wrongness he’d always felt in that monstrous guymelef that had finally shattered his nerve.

Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could feel it.  It was a sense of unease, a slight increase in his heartrate and a flickering of his bloodlust dancing just on the edge of his awareness.  _Kill it. Kill it_ … it called to him, always drawing him north.  North was where the capitol city was… where Van was.    Drawing in a deep breath, he imagined being able to scent the royal bastards presence on the wind like a hound and shivered at the familiar sense of anticipation it stirred in his blood.  He felt so close, the wrongness of his proximity urging the young captain to put an end to him despite the promises he’d made.

“This is your one bailout kid.”  Gaddes spoke up at him from down below on the ground, jolting the youth out of his homicidal musings.  When Dilandau glanced down, he saw the second in command glaring up at him with his arms crossed over his chest.  “You could have gotten good men killed with this little stunt of yours and don’t give me that “it all worked out” crap because all you did was get lucky.”  He paused for breath and the youth knew that he was far from done with the lecture. 

“This time we got away with only a bent propeller and some massive scraping along the underbelly.  The engine is badly overheated too and needs time to cool off.  So we’re stuck here for at least a day while Katz gets everything back into working shape, which is good because you left Kio in no shape to fly until at least that long.” 

Gaddes’ voice was clipped with frustration as he glared up at the cloaked source of his frustration, glad that the kid had at least put up his hood so that they didn’t have to deal with sunstroke on top of all of their other problems.

“You’re part of this crew and you need to get that through your pretty little head and start acting like it.  You broke our trust today in a huge way.  You lied to Allen, you poisoned Kio and you put us all in danger.  Yeah, I know your reasons and yes, I agree with them but that’s not how you go about things. 

“We need to trust you Dilandau and you need to trust us  That’s how these things work.  We’re willing to put our lives on the line to keep those bastards away from you and not just because of Celena.  You mean something to the crew; even you have to see that.  Don’t throw away your best chance of achieving your dream because you’re too focussed on the end result to think about how you’re getting there.”

“My dream is to see the world burn Fanelian.”  Dilandau replied in a cool voice that was just a tad too controlled to be fully believed.  He also refused to look down at his accuser, instead focussing intently on the line of broken trees behind them.

“Bullshit.”  Gaddes scoffed.  “You might have been a monster Dilandau, but only because they made you into one and hurt you anytime you tried to be anything else.  They don’t control you anymore though and now you have a chance to be something more.  You have a chance to mean something to people besides terror.  You don’t have to be alone anymore, so stop trying to push everyone away.”

Dilandau looked back down at him and for a moment Gaddes could see the bleakness in those eyes, the aching loneliness and pain which filled them before the youth slammed his sneering mask into place.

“I was made to destroy everything I touch Fanelian.  Don’t be so eager to join the ranks of the dead.”  With that, he slid to the edge of the leviship, twisting at the last moment to grab onto the edge of a wing and flip himself neatly down to the ground.  The envious glare the older man shot him made him feel much better about himself and he grinned cockily in return.  “Now then, let’s go hunt us a dragon!”

****************************

 

Three days previous…

 

Van stood in the center of the village, hearing the terrified cries of the populace as the soldiers surrounded them, brandishing their swords menacingly.  He was still cursing himself soundly for daring to lower his guard, believing himself to be safe deep within his country’s borders.  There’s been no sign of bandits in the area, and no reason to believe that there should be.  Fanelia had been razed to the ground by Zaibach at the start of the war, not a single building in the capitol had been left standing and the survivors scattered with little but the clothes on their backs. 

They wouldn’t even have enough food to survive the winter if it wasn’t for the generosity of the other allied nations.  Still that generosity had come at a price and each of them would have an ambassador in his court, one with a powerful voice regarding future trade deals.  It had rankled the proud young king, but he’d known that his people had to come first.  So long as the people survived, Fanelia would live on.  Allen had taught him that, and it had been a hard lesson to learn.

Now here he was, the great Van Fanel, hero of the Destiny War, surrounded by what looked like common brigands while Escaflowne languished back at the palace temple, guarding his brother’s tomb.  Such a stupid gesture when the mighty guymelef should have been guarding the populace.  He couldn’t even call the damn suit to him because in his blind arrogance, he’d removed the energist from its heart, believing that it would no longer be needed now that the war was over.  Stupid, stupid stupid!

“Lord Van!”  Merle whimpered softly from where she hung in the grip of one of the brigands, his sword pressed against her throat.  “Don’t give in!  Fight them!”  Her tail lashed back and forth violently as she took a moment to hiss defiantly at her captors before whimpering again as the blade pressed against soft fur in warning.

“Drop the sword King Fanel.”  One of the men snarled, stepping forward and radiated an aura of ruthless authority.  Middle aged and heavily battle-scarred, the man was obviously a veteran of many wars and carried himself with the self-assurance of a seasoned leader.  The large warrior was heavily built.  His bared arms were thickly corded with steel hard muscles beneath his deeply tanned flesh and dark hair stood out beneath his helmet.  While his face was covered in a heavy faceplate, the smug smile of victory was evidenced by his tone of voice

“If you don’t surrender, the kitten dies, as do your precious little villagers.  Don’t force us to finish what Zaibach started.”

“Even those Zaibach dogs had more honour than you bastards!”  The king yelled in his rage.  “They never hid behind innocents rather than face me!”    Perhaps if he defeated the leader, the others would scatter.  Buoyed by this thought, his grip on his sword tightened and he prepared to attack. 

To his credit, the leader didn’t appear to be at all upset by the insult of comparison and instead chuckled in amusement. 

“Their arrogance led to their loss.  We won’t make their mistake.  Drop the sword and come quietly.  This is your last warning.”  All humour then seemed to leave the warrior as he lifted his hand in the direction of the man who held Merle and the sword bit into her throat, drawing blood.   Though clearly in pain, the cat-girl refused to cry out, knowing it would only goad her beloved friend into an action he might regret.

Behind him, the other soldiers tightened their grips on the villagers they held, making it clear that there would be more than one death on his conscience should he defy them.

Swearing softly to himself and swearing eternal vengeance on the bastards behind this, the King of Fanelia sheathed his ancestral sword and let it fall to the dusty ground.

“A wise decision Your Majesty.” The leader smiled cruelly and motioned with his hand.  For a moment, Van felt his stomach drop, fearful that the man was going to kill his hostages anyway.  Instead, one of the brigands stepped forward with manacles and chains.  They were bulky ugly things and obviously weighed enough that escape was going to be impossible.  “Now you will stand there while we take a few precautions.  Your reputation precedes you after all and I’d rather not lose this contract due to … arrogance.” 

He seemed to enjoy his own jibe at the fallen Empire though several of the men behind him seemed to stiffen at his words.  Former Zaibach soldiers?  It was possible.  Many had deserted the empire in the end, disheartened by the death of their beloved ruler at the hands of his own Strategos… Folken.

Brother, forgive me.  He found himself thinking as he felt the cold weight of the manacles fasten around his wrists, locking them behind his back.  Next bound were his feet, leaving barely enough chain to allow him to take a full step.  Running would be impossible.  The most chilling however was the large metal band they wrapped around his chest.  It was heavy and unyielding, nearly forcing him to double over under its weight, but the worst part was knowing that it would prevent his wings from bursting free.  Any attempt to do so would likely shatter his ribs as well as the fragile wing bones.

“We can’t have our little pigeon fly away now can we?”  Several of the men laughed while Merle yowled loudly in rage, trying to struggle free despite the sword menacing her.

“Let them go.  You have what you want.”   Van snarled, doing his best to stand tall despite the weight of the metal weighing him down.  “I won’t fight you.”

“Oh of course you won’t, not while people you care about are in danger.”  The leader sneered cruelly.  “We’ll let the villagers go, but we’ll keep the kitten.  So long as you behave, she’ll be safe, but if you cause us any trouble… well… beast girls still sell just as well on the market if they’re sullied.”  Van grew pale at the vile implications of the man’s words and his stomach clenched in horror.  “It’s all up to you how much she suffers.”

“Don’t worry about me Lord Van!”  Merle argued bravely, though her ears were flat against her head and her fur stood on end in her terror.  “You’re too important!”

“Shut up kitten, he’s made the right choice.”  The leader growled and at a quick hand motion, the man holding Merle changed the grip on his sword and slammed the pommel into the side of her head, knocking her out.  “Ah, blessed silence.”  Several of the men chuckled.  “Chain her up and throw her in the cart.  The King will ride with me.”  He bowed mockingly to the Fanelian king and the man who’d manacled him gave him a sharp shove in the back, sending him stumbling to his knees, unable to catch himself.  “Do watch your step Your Majesty.”

From where he lay on the ground, Van glared up at the leader, loathing the sneering coward as he’d hated few others.

“If you know who I am, then you know that when I escape, I will end your miserable honourless life.”

“I tremble at the prospect.”  The leader wasn’t at all impressed.  “My name is Verrik Mantress, be sure to be creative when you curse it for that’s the worse you’ll be able to do to me.”

The man behind him grabbed onto the wrist manacles and hauled him to his feet, nearly tearing his shoulders out of joint as he scrambled to rise, unable to completely bite back the cry of pain.

 _Oh I will remember your name, Verrik Mantress_.  He snarled to himself.  _I will make you pay for threatening my people._

That would become his mantra for the next three days as they rode through the wilds of Fanelias forests.  They seemed to be heading in a steady southeast direction, skirting the base of the Lavarri mountain range.  It was a wise choice for someone who wanted to remain hidden and it showed an intimate knowledge of the land which the young king found to be more than a little worrisome.  The area was desolate and uninhabited save for a few isolated beast-man settlements.  Those reclusive people would avoid any confrontation with the armed raiders unless their villages were directly attacked and there was little chance of them even recognizing their king.

The thick forests they travelled through were uncharted and filled with wild predatory animals, not to mention dragons and the raiders stayed close together at all times.  Only the very brave or very foolish ever ventured here and even when the forest would eventually thin out and become barren rock shelves near the western border of Freid, there was no safety offered.  Men entering these lands were rarely seen again and Van knew that any search party sent after him would be hard pressed to follow their trail. 

Whoever had planned this kidnapping had planned this well.  Van had been isolated, foolishly leaving behind his Royal Guard, believing himself to be safe.  All he’d had was Merle at his side and his sword at his hip as he’d lent his aid in rebuilding the various settlements which had been destroyed in the initial attacks of the war.  It had been so stupid of him, and as he rode in front of the foul Verrik Mantress, he plotted hundreds of ways to take his revenge, praying that he’d be able to seize one of them. 

They never mentioned where they were going, and the men never spoke freely around him, fearing their leader who lurked as the king’s ever-present shadow.   Still, their looks of cruel anticipation gave the young monarch the distinct feeling that he wasn’t going to enjoy the destination at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Episode!!
> 
> Death! violence! sexytimes! Good thing Hitomi isn't around to check her cards.


	13. Dragon Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things to do while in Fanelia: 1) find a dragon 2) kill a dragon 3) start a fire 4) watch it burn
> 
> Dilandau and Gaddes enjoy sightseeing in Fanelia but was letting Dilandau choose their adventure vacation really a good idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood gore and sex! What more could you ask for? 
> 
> ahem... I don't own rent or lease Vision of Escaflowne or the characters. Don't sue me etc.
> 
> I got a ton of writing done this weekend so am a few chapters ahead. Woot! hope you guys enjoy.

                “So, I take it that you’ve done this before?”  Gaddes couldn’t quite keep the nervous edge from his voice as he followed the silently stalking albino through nearly impenetrable forest towards destination unknown.  They’d been walking for nearly an hour now and while the older man was in better shape than he’d been in two weeks ago, his body was beginning to voice its protests regarding the rough terrain.

                “No, I just chose to call my squad the Dragonslayers because it sounded ominous.”  Was the tart reply, causing the older man to roll his eyes.  Dilandau naturally was still fresh and at ease, as if this was nothing more than a pleasant stroll, though Gaddes knew by now that even if he were about to drop dead from exhaustion, he wouldn’t let it show.   “I’ve been hunting them since I was thirteen.  Everyone on my team had to make at least one kill for their guymelef’s dragenergist.  It was a rite of passage for us.”  He could actually hear the self-satisfied grin in the kid’s voice but that paled in comparison to his own utter shock. 

                “Are you crazy!?  You guys… a bunch of thirteen year olds went out dragon hunting?!  And Folken let you!?”  This time Dilandau did actually glance over his shoulder at the older man, crimson eyes shining with amusement.

                “You do realize that if you continue to call me crazy, it sort of lessens the impact when I do something truly worthy of the label.”

                “Thirteen and hunting friggin dragons!”  Gaddes shot back heatedly, as if that explained everything.  “At least tell me that you did it in your guymelefs.”  That earned him a rather rueful laugh.

                “Only a madman would do that.  Dragon fire can ignite crima metal.  All the creature would have to do is rupture the Alseides armour then breathe and it would be all over for whatever suicidal idiot it was fighting.”  Dilandau snickered somewhat maliciously.  “I saw it happen to a squad once.  They were trying to show us up and didn’t realize that we took all of our kills traditionally.  They’d gone in strutting and puffing up, telling us they’d show us how real men handled dragons.  It took less than five minutes for the dragon to kill all of them.”

                “Stupid question but why didn’t you help them?”

                “It was their fight, their choice.”  Dilandau didn’t look at all bothered by the death of soldiers on his side of the war.  “Once they died, we moved in, killed the dragon and gave Folken the energist.  I even wrapped a little bow around it and told him that it was better late than never.”  A particularly evil snicker worked its way past those smirking lips. “I’d never seen him so furious.  He almost had a real facial expression.”

                “I don’t understand… why?”

                “You’ve seen his arm right?  The metal one?”  Gaddes nodded his head cautiously, not sure what the connection was.  “He’d tried to hunt a dragon once, it was some stupid Fanelian thing.  Only he lost and the arm ended up in a dragon’s belly.  I loved the fact that all of my men and I had accomplished what he, the high and mighty Strategos had failed miserably at.  If I’m being totally honest, it was one of the reasons I chose to call us the Dragonslayers.  There’s nothing more satisfying than being able to rub your superiors nose in their greatest failure every single time they called you to duty.”

                Even Gaddes had to chuckle at that.  It was such an utterly Dilandau sort of thing to do that he could easily picture the endless hours of childish joy the kid had gleaned from it.

                “Alright Mr. Mighty Dragon Hunter, how do two men armed with only swords kill a land dragon?”  Despite all common sense, he was finding himself to be more than a little excited about this prospect.  What man didn’t dream about being able to call himself a Dragon Slayer?  At least in the traditional sense and not meaning the pack of homicidal kids Dilandau had commanded.

                “First, remember that both ends are dangerous.”  The silver youth cautioned.  “Their tail spike can pierce even guymelf armour.  Flesh and bone are nothing to it.  Their claws are rather lethal, but it doesn’t have that great a reach.  The head on the other hand does, and that mouth is full of rather pointy teeth as that traitor Folken discovered.  Don’t be like Folken.”

                “You’re not really selling me on this whole let’s kill a dragon idea.”  Yeah, this was starting to sound about as suicidal as facing off against a guymelef while armed only with a sword and overwhelming ego.  How the hell had this scrawny kid done it fifteen times or more and lived?

                “Well, ideally, I’d have several of us acting as distractions, nipping at it from the sides.  Its underbelly and throat are vulnerable, same with the eyes but that’s about it, so one group would force it to expose itself while the others took their shots.  We’d wear the damn thing down and confuse it while the intended Dragonslayer went in for the kill.  Sound familiar?”  That smirk was evident in his voice again and this time Gaddes had to grit his teeth so as to not rise to the obvious bait.  The brat and his team had used the same tactics in battle against Allen and Van, not to mention countless others who’d been less lucky.  Granted, it was rather humbling to know that they’d honed their technique by hunting down the most dangerous creatures on the planet.

                “So what do we do with only the two of us?”               

                “Same tactics.”  Dilandau didn’t sound nearly concerned enough.  “We take turns distracting it, drawing its fire while the other moves in for the attack.  Once it turns to face one of us, the other attacks.  We keep switching until I kill it.”  His eyes narrowed rather dangerously for a moment.  “The kill has to be mine since it’s my Alseides the dragenergist will be powering.  It needs to know that I’m its master.” 

                There was no point in arguing with the kid, not that Gaddes cared to.  While he doubted that the damn rock cared who’d cut it out of the dragons belly, it seemed to matter to Dilandau and that was all that was important unless he wanted to join the lizard in death.

                “Got it, the kill is yours.  So… how do we find one?”

                “It will find us.”  The youth said with unnerving confidence.  “They always do.”  He then paused and looked north, frowning slightly.  His body went rigid and those wonderfully soft lips of his pulled back into a rather fierce snarl as his hand rose up and gently stroked his scarred cheek.  Gaddes didn’t even need to ask what had suddenly stolen the Dragonslayer’s attention.

                “Stay on target Kid.”  He warned in a low tone.   “You don’t want to follow that train of thought.” 

                “Something isn’t right.”  Dilandau murmured more to himself than his companion.  Slender fingers continued to stroke the scar as flames smoldered behind his eyes.  “He’s too close…”  That sense of wrongness was closer now, threatening to pull him in and set his blood on fire.  He wanted to follow the pull towards his prey, see the surprise in his eyes when he drew his sword.  It would be so beautiful, almost as delightful as it would be to feel the hot spray of blood across his face, bathing his scar… cleansing it with the life of the bastard who’d marked him.

                “Dilandau!”  It was the oddity of hearing his name uttered by that particular voice which drew him away from his fanciful musings and he stopped moving, only now realizing that he’d been stalking northwards, oblivious to everything else but his hunt.  Giving his head a slight shake, he turned to look over at Gaddes, forcing a smile on his lips and pretending that nothing unsettling had just happened.

                “I was just curious.”  He murmured, tugging his hood down a little lower despite the residual warmth of the day.  It was obvious that the older man didn’t believe him at all and he stood there, feet planted firmly on the ground, giving the albino a dark glare.  “He’s moving quickly.”

                “Curious my hairy ass.”  Gaddes muttered, earning himself an amused raised eyebrow.  “Are you telling me that you can actually sense Van?

                “More or less.”  Dilandau admitted somewhat evasively, feeling wrong about actually admitting to this out loud.  This wasn’t the sort of thing he should be sharing with an enemy… but Gaddes wasn’t an enemy any longer.  The Empire as he knew it was gone, so what did their secrets matter anymore?    It’s not like he was going to go of hunting that demon armour again… not until he had the upper hand and could properly claim his revenge.  Anything less would be pointless suicide and would waste the sacrifice his men had made for him.

                “I just feel a pull towards him.  It was useful during the war when you were always running and hiding from us.  Now, it’s just annoying.”  He glared northwards, idly wondering why the king was drawing closer.  Could Van feel him too?  Did he know that he was awake and in his territory?  Did he have that damn armour with him?  A shudder of dread ran through his body at that thought but he quickly controlled himself.  Never show fear to an enemy, never show weakness.

                “Is that something the sorcerers did to you?”  Dilandau’s shoulders hunched at the question, refusing to allow his mind to go back to those horrific memories.  He wouldn’t hear the screams, wouldn’t feel that cold table or piercing needles.

                “Of course it is.”  He spat out.  “Don’t talk about it.  I don’t want to remember.  Not here.”  If he lost himself in that nightmare there’s no telling what he’d do and out here in the jungles of Fanelia. Gaddes would be at his mercy.  “I’m not going after him if that’s what you’re worried about.  I promised Schezar that I’d behave.”

                “Cause you’re doing so well at that.”  Gaddes grumbled under his breath, likely not expecting Dilandau to hear it.  Rather than biting back and starting a pointless argument, the Zaibach youth let it slide and instead focussed on the forest around them.

                “Let’s go this way.”  He stated, slipping through the thick underbrush, heading in a westerly direction.  He could hear Gaddes swearing softly behind him as his ridiculously puffed shirtsleeves caught on branches and tore.  Maybe next time the man followed him into a jungle, he’d wear sensible clothing.

                “Do you see tracks? I don’t see any tracks… course, I don’t know what dragon tracks looks like.  Big I’d assume.”  Honestly, the man babbled worse than Viole when he was nervous and Dilandau couldn’t quite keep from smiling despite how dangerous the noise likely was.

                “No tracks, it just feels right.”  He stated, having long ago learned to trust his instincts.  Besides, it wasn’t so much a matter of finding the dragons, the beasts would come to them all on their own.  It was more a matter of finding a decent place to fight.  A land dragon could plow its way through the brush with ease whereas their swords could easily get stuck on stray branches and feet caught on roots.  What he wanted was a small clearing, preferably with a stream or lake nearby to break up any fire which would result from the fight.

                “Feels right… Yeah, we’re gonna die out here.”  Gaddes’ faith in his actions left much to be desired, but the young captain found it amusing rather than irritating as they travelled.  He even restrained himself from casting a smug glance over his shoulder when they came across a well-used game trail.  It provided a welcome relief to both hunters and they moved with much more ease and speed.

                “Tell me about some of the other dragon hunts you’ve been on.  What did you guys do?”  Gaddes pressed, not liking the relative silence of the thick forest.  He was a city man and even after several years at Castilo fort, he didn’t trust being around so much green.

                “Other than kill dragons?”  Dilandau spared him a quick glance, wondering why the older man had to keep talking so much.  While he enjoyed the company, it was a distraction; one he wasn’t used to.  “We treated it the way other units treated leave.”  He couldn’t quite keep from smiling slightly at the fond memories his words evoked. 

                “We’d leave our Alseides behind and a small shuttle would take us to the location I’d chosen for the hunt.  We’d be out a day, maybe two.  Most of that would be just stalking the damn thing and finding a decent place to fight it.  You need room to fight a dragon, but also a place with enough barriers to break up its breath.  It would take me weeks of research to find the right sort of place on our maps.”

                “I never saw you as the type to sit quietly pouring over pretty pieces of paper for any length of time.”  Gaddes radiated smug amusement and Dilandau flipped him a rather rude gesture over his shoulder, making the older man laugh.

                “I’m a man of many skills, and I have no problem with playing the academic if it lets me kill something in the end.”

                “Yeah, that I can see.”

                “Eat me Fanelian.  Anyway, after we killed the dragon, we’d use whatever was still burning to make a huge fire.  Usually we’d cut off some steaks from the thing before we pulled the dragenergist out.  They tend to dissolve rather quickly after you do that.  It makes for a clean campsite, but slim eating if you’re not ready for it.”

                “You’ve eaten dragon?”

                “Ryuun was from a family of chefs.  He could do the most amazing things with the meat.  I’ve never tasted anything better.”  Dilandau grinned now.  “And of course, we’d drink ourselves stupid.  Everyone smuggled some Deck Cleaner for the trip and it was the only time I didn’t give them shit over it.”

                “Deck Cleaner?  You mean alcohol of some sort?”

                “Some sort.”  Dilandau agreed.  “The stuff could make you go blind if you weren’t careful.  It was brutal, but it got the job done.  The crap was banned on every floating fortress in the Empire, but you could always find someone who brewed it if you knew where to look.”  Gaddes snorted at that, enjoying the picture of a bunch of plastered Dragonslayers sitting around a campfire puking their guts out from alcohol poisoning.

                “Let me guess, one of your boys brewed it?”

                “Hell no.  I’d have drummed them out of my unit in pieces if they had!”  Dilandau sounded almost scandalized at the very idea.  “I wouldn’t even allow it in the barracks and anyone who tried to sneak that crap in was given laps until they vomited.  No, some of the men in the engine room brewed it and they gave me some whenever I asked in exchange for me not reporting them to Folken.”

                “Ahh, you had a little racket going.  So much for discipline huh?”

                “My men were disciplined. I could care less about the rest of the Vionne’s soldiers.  Besides, Folken monitored our vino stores pretty strictly and alcohol helped keep the edge off of my nightmares.”  Dilandau took a deep breath, realizing that he’d strayed from the initial topic and into a far more personal realm. 

                “Anyway, these little victory parties were like a sacred tradition.  We didn’t stand on rank at all.  Everyone was equal from me to our newest recruit.  It helped the men let off some steam and gave me a chance to get to know them a little better.  We’d joke, laugh and tease each other.  We nearly drowned half the unit in a lake once play sparring and this one time we were so drunk that we sort of accidentally picked the wrong mushrooms to put in our dragon tail stew and were stoned out of our minds.  I woke up next to Guimel the morning after that and I honestly couldn’t tell you who was more horrified.  Gatti, the bastard kept putting little stuffed sheep on my pillow for nearly a month after that. The bastard even left one on my throne once.”

                “Sheep?  I don’t get it.” It was best not to even ask about him having a throne, the egocentric little bastard.

                “Guimel was the one with the really curly blond hair, the others used to tease him a lot about it. They said he looked like a cute little lamb someone dressed up in armour.”

                “He was the really little one right?”

                “Don’t let his size fool you.  He once bit the nose off another soldier for trying to grope him.”

                “Unfortunate for the soldier.”

                “Not really, I slit his belly open and threw him off the catwalk so he could have time to ponder the gravity of his mistake.  No one touches one of my Slayers.”

                “You just had to end that on a homicidal note didn’t you?  You couldn’t have just stuck with the cute sheep story?”

                “I thought it was funny.”

                “See, there’s that whole crazy thing again.”

                “Say’s the man alone in the deep dark forest with me and my sword.”

“Soooo.  With that little uplifting note, I’m suddenly finding myself wondering just how we’re going to find our way back to the Crusade?  We’ve been travelling for hours now.”  Despite his concern, Gaddes was actually enjoying himself and he watched as Dilandau paused for a moment to get his bearings before confidently pointing towards the southeast.

                “It’s there, about two hours away on foot if we go straight.”  He noticed the rather incredulous look from the older man and allowed himself a smug grin.  “I captained a military unit known for being invisible.  I’m rather excellent at keeping track of the location of things I can’t see.”  This was no empty boast.  It had been a hard skill to master and he was rather proud of his abilities.  In all of his years, he’d never gotten lost. 

It had proven to be invaluable in the labyrinthine hallways of the Vionne not to mention the various camps he’d been stationed at over the course of his life.  Someone as young and unique looking as he’d been had always needed to know the quickest escape routes or best points to rally.  It had actually been a rather fun game for him in the camps to lead would be predators into ambush.   At least it had been before they’d learned to avoid the silver haired child.

Speaking of ambushes… The fine hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he could feel his heart begin to pound before he even heard the first sounds of breaking branches off in the distance.  His smile grew wider as he drew in a deep breath, thrilling in the sense of anticipation.

“About time, I was beginning to think that they were avoiding us.”  He murmured and glanced over his shoulder at Gaddes who had dropped down into a crouch, his hand wrapped around the handle of his sword.  “Come on, we don’t want to get caught here.”  Dilandau motioned for the older man to follow before taking off at a run, moving with his usual easy grace along the narrow path, drawing in deep breaths with every stride, trying to catch the scent of water.

Gaddes had no choice but to follow, though he refused to do so quietly, spouting off a long string of curses with every step.  This was by far the stupidest thing on the long list of stupid things he’d ever done and he desperately hoped that he survived it so that he could laugh about it over a tankard or two with the rest of the crew.  “So did I ever tell you guys about the time I went hunting land dragons, armed only with a sword and a certifiable psychopath?”  Yeah, that would earn him several free rounds at the tavern and maybe a wench or two on his lap.

Sadly, that last thought didn’t delight him nearly as much as it used to.  Oh it still had its appeal, but compared to the silvery menace he was following, it lacked the excitement and Jeture help him, the fire.  The kid was going to get him killed, either by a dragon, or Allen himself, and yet here he was, still happily following along.  So maybe the kid wasn’t really the crazy one here.  He at least seemed to have some sort of plan.

“The dragon is going to come after me first!”  Dilandau called from up ahead and damn it if it didn’t sound like he was thoroughly delighted by this prospect.  “I’ll keep it busy while you slash at its haunches.  Remember to watch out for its tail, it can strike 360 degrees with that thing and it’s as fast as a snake.”

“What makes you think it will go after you first?!”  Gaddes managed to pant out in between breaths, doing his best to ignore how his legs were already starting to burn.  Naturally, the kid didn’t bother answering.  Instead, he seemed to be focussed on the loud crackling of snapping branches which seemed to be drawing much closer and picking up speed.  The dragon was heading right for them and not bothering to hide the fact at all.

The first blast of fire caught him by surprise as it shot through the trees creating a wall of heat and light and nearly singeing Gaddes’ bangs as he twisted desperately to avoid it.  Over the thunderous roar of the flames, he could hear Dilandau’s maniacal laugh of delight.

Ignoring the now burning bushes around him, Gaddes pushed himself forward along the path, feeling the intense heat draw the air from his lungs.  At least some god somewhere was favouring them and the surrounding greenery was too wet to stay lit, though several smoldering branches slapped at him as he passed them, singeing his clothing.

A massive form burst out of the trees in front of him.  Gaddes had never seen anything so huge and he almost fell over in shock at the sight of the living wall of fury only two body lengths away.  Greenish brown scales seemed to glitter in the fading sunlight, thicker than any melef armour, making the man wonder how he was ever supposed to hurt the damn thing let alone kill it.

Then, before his mind could fully grasp the sheer stupidity of their endeavor, the monster was off, chasing after the madman up ahead, not even noticing Gaddes.  There was no time for gratitude over this however because as the creature pelted off down the path, its long tail lashed out, the heavy spike on the tip narrowly missed Gaddes’ head, instead splintering the tree he was next to, tearing a deep gouge out of its trunk.

“C’mon you scaly sack of shit!”  Dilandau yelled tauntingly from up ahead, his voice somehow carrying over the sound of rampaging dragon.  “Let’s see who’s more dangerous!”  Jeture, the kid was enjoying himself, likely anticipating being able to let loose all of the viciousness he had simmering inside him without worries of repercussions.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure who was more dangerous, the teenager, or the dragon, but another brilliant burst of flame being vomited from those massive jaws up ahead made him decide that it was likely the latter.  He had to haul ass and help out Dilandau before he got his crazy ass killed!

Before he could talk himself out of the action, Gaddes charged forward, ducking under that wildly swinging tail and sliced his sword along an unguarded flank before leaping away.  The blade traced a line of sparks down the scaled flesh but did little else and the dark man swore loudly.  How the hell was he supposed to hurt this thing?  Dammit!  He wasn’t going to fail at something a bunch of friggin thirteen year old kids had accomplished and he certainly wasn’t going to do it in front of Dilandau!

The dragon shifted its bulk with lighting speed and there was the sound of a sword striking scales followed by more crazed laughter as the Zaibach youth dodged an attack successfully

“Are you having fun Fanelian?!”  Dilandau called over the dragon that at this time chose to let out a god-awful roaring screech of rage as its prey danced out of reach.

“If this thing doesn’t kill you, I will!”  Gaddes yelled back and was answered with more delighted laughter.  Well at least one of them was enjoying himself.  Slashing at the beast again only yielded the same results; his sword wasn’t accomplishing anything other than losing its edge on the tough scales.

There was the sound of more striking of sword against scales, the dragon bellowed in fury and they were off again, racing down the path towards destination unknown, leaving Gaddes to follow and curse his own apparent uselessness.  What the hell was the kid up to?  He couldn’t outrun the thing and their light was quickly fading.  If they had to fight in the darkness, they’d die.

The creature was fast, far too fast for something with such small legs and massive bulk.  He had no idea how Dilandau was staying ahead of it, but he was managing.  All Gaddes could do was chase along blindly and occasionally dodge the lethal tail when it swung out for balance.  He had half a thought of trying to catch the damn thing to see if he could at least slow the monster down, but knew that that would be a pointless endeavor.  It was simply too strong and likely wouldn’t even notice if he jumped up on the damn things back.

An idea formed in his head at this and before he could even think of the hundreds of ways this could backfire, he put on a burst of speed, timing it with the next time the creature stopped to breathe at the boy it was chasing. 

His strong hands grabbed onto the tail but rather than try to hold it still, he used it as a handhold and scrambled up the back of the beast, glad that it was so broad and flat but wishing it offered something to hold onto.

Unfortunately, though the scales were thick enough to turn aside blades, the beast could still feel through them and realized what he was doing quickly enough.  Pausing its plan to breathe on its fleeing prey, the thing instead shifted its weight, creating a rolling sensation beneath Gaddes’ feet, forcing him to drop down to all fours in order to hang on.  His sword was pressed tightly against the scaly hide, useless as he fought for balance.

A head the size of a guymelef’s arm rose up and a single massive eye studied him as the creature’s tiny mind tried to figure out just what the stupid human was doing.  The sight of his own face reflected in that massive orb nearly unmanned Gaddes and he stared at what he was sure was going to be the last thing he ever saw in this world.

“Don’t you dare ignore me!”  Dilandau all but screamed and this time the sword struck something softer than thick scales.  The dragon shrieked in pain, the sound threatening to shatter Gaddes’ eardrums as the head whipped away with lightning speed.  They were off again on their merry chase, only this time Gaddes was hanging on for dear life and screaming out the name of every god and benevolent spirit Gaea had to offer, hoping one of them would take pity on him.

The trees parted as they burst into a natural clearing at the edge of a small lake.  The setting sun made the water look molten and turned the silver of Dilandau’s hair into fire.  His hood had fallen back and as Gaddes watched, he tossed the goggles aside, revealing crimson eyes filled with the most joyous bloodlust imaginable.

This was the face of the Dragonslayer Captain who’d set the world on fire, slaughtering anyone who dared stand against him and Gaddes couldn’t quite keep from thinking that he’d never seen anyone as beautiful or as wild as this.  He was a god of battle given flesh and the man knew suddenly without a doubt that the dragon was going to die.  It didn’t matter that it was just one kid with a sword.  There was no uncertainty as to the outcome.

The dragon of course begged to differ and its head snapped forward, trying to bite the youth in half but Dilandau nimbly skipped out of the way, striking with his sword and narrowly missing the huge eye of the beast.  Rearing its head back, the dragon snarled, its long purple tongue lolling out of its mouth for a moment before those massive jaws snapped shut.

Rearing back and nearly knocking Gaddes loose, the beast drew in a massive breath and he could hear a high pitched hum of energy radiating from the creature beneath him. 

Rather than simply stand still, Dilandau took this opportunity to dodge forward and stab deeply into the dragon’s chest, his sword biting into the strong flesh and carving a deep wound.  Thick green blood sprayed across his body and face, but he paid it no mind, rolling away quickly as the blast of flame incinerated the ground where he’d been standing moments before.

Laughing again at the sheer thrill of the moment, he glanced up at Gaddes’ who was still riding the dragon and grinned.

“Ready to switch?”

“Somehow I think it wants you dead more than me!”  The older man called back down, his face was paler than usual but his brown eyes burned with the excitement of the hunt.  Dilandau allowed himself a small moment to thrill at his victory.  He’d known that the man would enjoy this adventure despite his show of reluctance.  Nothing made you feel more alive than hunting dragons!

“You need to be blooded Fanelian!  Live a little!”  The dragon was growing frustrated and it snapped at him once again before arching its back sharply, swinging its tail over its head to stab at the young slayer, forcing him to leap back at the last moment and then roll to avoid the next lethal snap of those jaws.  It was manoeuvering him so it could pounce and getting out of the way was going to be tricky if the thing didn’t give him a moment to get his feet back under him.

“I like to keep my blood inside my body!”  Gaddes called back, but despite his words, Dilandau saw him adjusting his grip in preparation for something, but he didn’t have time to watch.  Instead, he dove to the side as jaws snapped shut on the edge of his cloak and barely had enough time to quickly tear the fasteners loose before he was dragged off of his feet.

Thinking it had him, the dragon swung its head back and forth viciously like a dog with a rag, making the silver haired youth rather glad that the buckle holding it closed had been something one could undo quickly.  That would have snapped most of his bones almost instantly.

Taking advantage of the dragon’s distraction, Gaddes lunged forward, swinging his sword in a somewhat haphazard manner.  Luck guided his hand however and the blade slashed across one of the beasts massive eyes.  Thick blue blood and various other ocular liquids sprayed the man and the dragon writhed wildly.  One particularly sharp twist sent him rolling free and into some nearby bushes with a muffled curse.

Aware that while his partner had distracted the dragon rather effectively, he was now exposed to retaliation, Dilandau raced forward, moving to the beasts now blind side and slashed at its underbelly once again, rolling with his momentum in order to avoid the slashing claws.  The ground was torn up around him as he got his feet under him and raced towards the dragons tail, wanting to turn it fully away from his companion, giving him the time needed to regain his breath and enter the fight.

Another deafening shriek split the night and Dilandau heard the indrawn breath of impending fire.  He risked a quick glance over his shoulder to see where it was aiming for and saw that it was still aiming for Gaddes.

Panic filled him at the thought of losing another life under his protection and he could hear the screams of his fallen slayers rising up around him.  No!  He wasn’t going to see another life wasted!  He wasn’t going to cower in fear while another died in his place!

He was barely aware of himself screaming in wild rage as he spun on his heel and charged the beast, utterly unafraid of the incoming blast of flame.  The monster paid no attention to him, Gaddes was its prey and the beast’s chest glowed a brilliant purplish red as its dragenergist fueled breath ignited in its throat.

With a leap, he drove the sword upwards into the vulnerable throat, driving its point straight into the dragon’s brain just as the flames began to spray from its gaping maw.  Steaming hot blood gushed out over him, plastering his hair to his face and nearly blinding him.  He barely noticed the harsh blast of heat as it rushed overhead or how the creature’s entire body convulsed wildly, spraying fire in all directions.  It flopped over on its back, the tail catching the youth in the ribs and sending him flying several feet backwards where he landed heavily on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

Several of the treetops were on fire, their brilliant light danced beautifully against the sunset and Dilandau couldn’t help but smile as he forced his aching body back to its feet, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach.  There was still work to do after all, no rest yet.  Take the pain, embrace it.  Pain only sweetened the pleasure after all and his entire body felt like it was glowing with his victory.  Fire danced through his veins, helping him rise above any petty injuries he might have, making him feel as light as air as he threw back his head and laughed triumphantly.  He had prevailed; he had stood against Gaeas strongest and lived! 

It made him feel reborn and revitalized as the darkness which had been slowly choking his soul melted away with the dragon’s blood.  It was a rebirth, a bloody baptism and he held up his arms towards the flames up above to receive its glorious benediction, welcoming this second chance.

“That was by far the craziest more insanely dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my life!”  Gaddes gasped as he limped out of the bushes, favouring his right ankle slightly and showing several small cuts and bruises.  Like Dilandau though, he was grinning like a madman and didn’t look at all like he was upset over what had just happened.

Looking over at the dragon, the man couldn’t help but feel energized.  He’d achieved the near impossible, something that people still wrote legends about.  He’d hunted a dragon, armed only with a sword and he’d lived.  Jeture be praised, he’d lived!

He watched as Dilandau stared at the already dying fire in the treetops with a look of utter peace and joy that was heart stopping.  The youth was radiant with vitality, glowing in the suns golden light and Gaddes couldn’t help but feel honoured at having been allowed to play a part in something the young Zabiach captain considered to be sacred.

Off to the side, the massive dragon finally stilled, its body only now realizing that it was dead.  Its stillness seemed to catch Dilandau’s attention and he walked towards it, bending to pick up the sword he’d dropped when he’d been thrown.  Despite the impending gore of what was about to happen, Gaddes refused to look away from the strange rite as the Dragonslayer sliced deeply into the chest of the dragon, opening up a large hole before reaching inside.  His blood covered arm disappeared almost to the elbow and the soft squelching sounds of raw bloody meat being moved around filled the now silent clearing.

When Dilandau drew his arm back, his fingers were tightly clasped around a large bloody stone which seemed to glow with a strange crimson light.  Gaddes couldn’t help but shiver slightly when he saw an answering glow in Dilandau’s eyes and realized they were exactly the same shade.  It was as beautiful as it was unnatural and before the man knew it, he was stepping forward, needing to share in this moment.

Without looking up at his approach, Dilandau turned and smiled up at Gaddes, the strange glow fading somewhat but still present, making his pupils seem to burn with flames of their own.  A slender hand coated in blue  blood reached up and slid through the older man’s hair before pulling his head down into a deep searing kiss.  The heat of passion mixed with the heady taste of the dragon’s blood and he moaned loudly, kissing back with equal fervor.

He never felt the blood vanish from his skin or heard the disintegration of the dragon’s vast body.  All that he was aware of was the young god in his arms and the wild heat radiating from him with every pulse of his heart.

“You’ve been bathed in the blood of a dragon; you helped claim its life.  You’re a Dragon Slayer now Fanelian.  How does it feel?”  Dilandau’s breath ghosted over him, hot, sweet and full of promise.  Gaddes couldn’t help but shiver as the adrenaline from the fight continued to make his entire body sing.  He felt unstoppable, like he could take on the world single handed and be victorious.

“It feels incredible.”  He whispered back, seizing those lips once again, demanding entrance to that searing mouth and thrilling at the feel of a hot tongue stroking eagerly against his own, urging him onwards.   The fear, the injuries, the heart stopping thrill of it had all been worth it for this single perfect moment.

“There’s another ritual the Dragonslayers shared after a kill.”  Dilandau murmured, pulling back just enough to stare into Gaddes’ dark eyes, thrilling at the hunger he saw shining in their depths.  Knowing that the man felt as he did, that he’d thrilled in the kill, in his mastery over the great beast created a deep bond in the youth and his desire to anchor it in something physical was overpowering.  Rather than fight it, he revelled in it, letting it fill him with its perfection.

“Oh?”  The darker man smiled, brushing his lips across the slayers in an almost chaste kiss.  It was so wonderfully light and teasing that it set Dilandau’s blood on fire.  Smiling, Dilandau nodded his head and began to unfasten the lacings holding Gaddes’ now rather ruined blouse closed.

“Shall I show you?”  His voice was that maddening purr which drove away all higher thought process’ and sent every spare drop of blood straight to the man’s groin.  Not that he minded at all.  There was no one around to chastise or reprimand him.  No outside worries beyond this moment.  No interruptions or emergencies, just them, the forest and Dammit, he’d just helped kill a land dragon!  He was going to celebrate!

“Yes… m’all about traditions… especially naked ones…”  Gaddes murmured as the ruins of his blouse were pulled aside.  His own hands quickly made short work of the albino’s jacket and shirt, showing him several rapidly darkening bruises along the youth’s chest and ribs.  “You’re hurt.”  He murmured softly, his voice hitching slightly as a searing hot tongue stroked its way across his newly bared chest, savouring the taste of his sweaty skin.  Concern welled up in him for his partner but Dilandau scoffed gently and dragged short but sharp nails down his ribs, making the older man arch his back sharply in pleasure.

“Pain heightens the pleasure.”  He murmured softly.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’m not some gentle maiden who needs to be coddled.”  As if to back this statement, Dilandau bit at the tanned skin of Gaddes’ chest, leaving the faint mark of his teeth before tracing the shallow wound with his tongue tip.  “I want you to fuck me like your world is about to end.” 

The crude words made Gaddes groan as his pants suddenly seemed several sizes too tight.  Jeture, the kid knew just what to say to get him going, and that tongue… it was maddening the way it traced over his skin, drawing searing patterns of desire on his flesh with every cruel little flick.

“I….I’ve never been with a man before.”  Gaddes admitted more than a little reluctantly and his confession was greeted with an amused chuckle as deft fingers made short work of his belt.  Dilandau didn’t seem to share his concern and he moved with confidence and assurance, easily taking the lead.  All Gaddes could do was drink in every sensation and hold his breath as those clever hands slipped beneath the loosened waistband of his trousers and stroked along the rounded muscles of his ass.  They squeezed him playfully, cupping his cheeks as if savouring the shape and the way his flesh tightened at their touch.

“Mmmm don’t worry, I’ll show you exactly what to do.”  Dilandau purred, tracing a line of kisses and nibbles along the taller man’s collarbone.  As he did this, he allowed his hands to lazily slide to the front, tracing playfully over tanned thighs before reaching forward to gently cup the firm weight of his balls, squeezing them gently.  Those smoldering hot kisses traced down and across his chest as his hands explored and Gaddes could only gasp in pleasure as that maddening tongue found one of his nipples and toyed with it mercilessly until the already sensitive flesh screamed at the slightest touch.

Cool air brushed across his groin as he felt his pants slide down his legs, exposing him to the world.  For a moment, Gaddes was nervous, unable to quite believe that his dream was actually coming true.  This sort of thing didn’t happen to people did it?  Not that he was complaining, no siree, not a single complaint at all.

That wicked mouth released his nipple and began to slowly kiss its way down his chest.  The tip of his tongue teased along the line of his abdomen before lightly sucking at the flesh below his navel.  It felt incredible and his shaft was already aching with need, desperate for even a single touch.

“Well now, someone has clearly been blessed.”  Dilandau murmured in open admiration as he knelt down between Gaddes’ legs, his eyes growing wide as he took in the sheer size and girth of the shaft in front of his face.  He loved how the darkly tanned flesh seemed to tremble at the sound of his voice and how the colour reddened as it neared the impressive tip only to be crowned by a lovely pearly drop of his need.  Surrounded by a wreath of wiry dark hair at its base, this was truly a magnificent sight to behold and the youth could hardly believe his luck in being able to enjoy every inch of it.  “You magnificent bastard, don’t you dare hold back with me.  This is far too beautiful to be wasted.”

Glancing up, he saw Gaddes looking down at him with naked desire shining in his eyes, silently begging him to touch the straining length, to stroke and kiss it until it burst.  Smiling, Dilandau met his eyes before leaning forward and tracing his tongue along its quivering underside from root to gloriously throbbing tip.  His fingers felt how the man’s hips tensed as he struggled not to thrust and he allowed himself a slightly sadistic chuckle as his tongue flicked out to catch that delicious drop of seed before it was spilled onto the ground and wasted.  The salty musky flavour bursting on his tongue and making him moan in pleasure.

“Dilandau!”  Gaddes gasped loudly, his fingers tangling in silver hair, alternating between caressing and pulling as the teenager stroked the length again with his tongue, only this time when he reached the purpling head, he drew the tip into his mouth, marvelling at how it strained his jaw to do so.  His eyes never left Gaddes’and he felt a thrill of excitement blaze down his spine, turning his own loins molten.  The need and the desire in those eyes made him shiver in excitement for what was to come.

Slowly, mindful of his teeth, he drew more of that glorious length into his mouth, his tongue lashing ruthlessly at the hard flesh while his fingers gently pulled and stroked the man’s firming balls.  Every twitch and quiver was enticing him further and when he slowly pulled back, allowing suction to drag at the flesh in his mouth, Gaddes let out a low moan of desperation.

The fingers tightened warningly in his hair, urging him to slide his lips back down the generous shaft, taking it in deeper, feeling it brush across his palate and push into his throat.  The muscles of his jaw strained to accommodate the size, but that served to only make him even more eager and he moaned in pleasure.  The vibrations caused Gaddes to gasp sharply, crying out Dilandau’s name loudly as his hips gave a slight buck, pressing himself in even deeper as the pleasure built up inside him.  Drawing in a deep breath, the silver youth drank in his lover’s musky scent and felt his eyes flutter closed in utter bliss.  Still, he wanted more.

All too soon, the silver haired youth pulled away, a cruel smile on his swollen lips.  His eyes opened once more, still locked on Gaddes’, smoldering with hunger and still glittering slightly with energist light.

“Lay down on the ground.”  He ordered softly, his voice low and husky.  Gaddes couldn’t obey fast enough and practically fell over himself to do so.  As he lay down, Dilandau rose gracefully to his feet and slowly, with teasing deliberation, removed his boots, then allowed his fingers to trace playfully over the belt on his pants.  All Gaddes could do was lay there and watch as the leather was loosened and slowly slid through the various loops until it fell free onto the ground, allowing the soft leather pants to hang low on the youths slender hips.

Next came the ties, tight against the strain of Dilandau’s own arousal.  His smile grew truly wicked as he deftly unfastened them and then hooked his fingertips along the waistline before slowly pulling them down.  Perfect alabaster flesh was revealed an inch at a time, catching for a moment on the tip of his erection before sliding free.  While nowhere near as large as Gaddes, the youth was perfectly proportioned and his own pale shaft stood proudly out from its bed of silvery white curls, the tip a deep blushing rose and already slick with his own need.

Reaching out his hands, Gaddes sat up just enough to catch the youth’s hips and pull him down to straddle his lap.  For a moment, their hardened flesh touched and both men gasped in pleasure before pale slender hands wrapped around them both and stroked with smooth sure motions.  The heat was incredible and Gaddes wanted to throw his head back with a cry, but instead reached forward, pulling the youth closer and seizing that mouth once again with his own.  He wanted nothing more to drown in those fiery kisses which he as rapidly becoming addicted to.

Deep inside, he could feel the pressure building with every movement of those skilled hands and the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him.  He couldn’t think, didn’t even want to.  All that mattered was feeling more of this glorious sensation and riding it to new heights.   Without him even realizing it, his hips began to rock up against each thrust, rubbing against Dilandau’s silken flesh.  The movements becoming quick and jerky as his release drew near.

It was almost too much to bear when Dilandau pulled away once again, biting playfully at his lower lip before releasing his now screaming flesh which was slick and  dripping with copious amounts of pre-cum, making both of their shafts shine in the golden light of the sunset.  He nearly screamed in frustration and wanted nothing more than to grab the kid, throw him down and bury himself to the hilt in that perfect body.  It was only by a heroic act of sheer willpower that he held himself back.

“Tell me… tell me you have something to use.”  Gaddes gasped out, desperately hoping that this was why the albino had stopped and nearly weeping in pleasure as the youth leaned away to reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small jar of oil.  It was for cooking, likely stolen from the kitchen, but at this moment the darker man wasn’t about to complain or ask what the kid had been doing there.  He’d been banned since the stew incident but what was one more rule ignored after so many?

Really, the rules didn’t matter at all, not in light of what they were about to do and really, the fact that the kid had had the foresight to steal it made Gaddes ready to sing his praises to the gods and if anything, his flesh grew even harder at the sheer prospect of what was to come.

“Do you have any idea what to do next?”  Dilandau asked with that wicked smile still taunting the older man.  As he spoke, he resettled himself astride Gaddes.  He sat a little higher so that the man’s throbbing shaft rested behind his body, nestled snugly in the cleft of his wonderfully tight ass and gave his hips a playful rocking motion, stroking the slick flesh against his aching entrance.  Moaning softly, Dilandau bit his lower lip, struggling to keep from just impaling himself on that glorious shaft without preparation and tearing himself apart in his need.   Patience… patience.  Dammit he hated patience!

“I… I have an idea.”  While Gaddes didn’t like admitting to his ignorance, he figured that in this case, it was self-explanatory and he poured a generous amount of oil into his hand before pulling Dilandau up a little higher onto his hips and sliding his hand between them.  For a moment, he caressed that silken pouch below the silver youth’s manhood before sliding his fingers back further until he felt that center of heat press against him.  The way that Dilandau’s breath hitched softly gave him such a rush of power that he nearly lost control over himself right there and then.  Fighting to keep his raging libido in check, he pressed a slick digit into the tight flesh, feeling strong muscles press against him. 

Back arching, head thrown back, Dilandau was breathtaking as he loudly sucked in air through clenched teeth, trying to keep from crying out in pleasure and Gaddes drank in every moment.  Every sweet quiver of his body was pure art as that finger began to work its way in and out of that delicately quivering flesh.  Pressing his way in a little further each time until the muscles began to relax and the dragonslayer was whimpering softly in need.  The sound was so beautiful and unexpected that Gaddes couldn’t believe it was coming from Dilandau’s throat.

“More… I need more!”  He’d never heard the youth sound so raw and desperate and was all too happy to oblige, adding in a second finger and feeling the tight silken muscles squeeze him mercilessly as Dilandau’s hips began to buck slightly, pressing him in deeper, eagerly drawing the questing digits in.  “More dammit!  Don’t you dare stop!”  Sharp fingernails scratched their way down his chest, drawing faint lines of fire as Gaddes hastily pressed in a third finger and tried to move them around, wanting to loosen the youth as much as possible.  Dilandau was having none of it, his limited patience was clearly at an end and his hips rocked sharply back, impaling himself on those maddening fingers before deciding that it simply wasn’t enough.  “More.”  He hissed softly, eyes blazing as he reached between them and stroked along Gaddes’ cock angling it to rub along the cleft of his ass with each movement of his hips.  “Give me this.”  There was no room for disobedience with this command and while Gaddes wasn’t sure if the youth was ready, he didn’t dare disobey.

As soon as his fingers were removed from that hot and clenching passage, Dilandau caught his wrists and pressed them down to the ground, holding him pinned for a moment.

“Don’t move until I tell you to.”  He ordered softly, holding Gaddes’ gaze long enough to ensure that he’d be obeyed.  Unable to resist, the older man simply nodded his head dumbly and watched as Dilandau shifted back slightly, grasping that dark and dripping shaft once again. 

Rocking up onto his knees, he positioned the generous penis beneath him and slowly sank down.  Gaddes felt the press of that incredible heat against his sensitive head as searing flesh pressed against him, parting with aching slowness and threatening to squeeze the very life out of him.  The newness of the situation added its own special spice to the coupling and he found that while Dilandau was as hot as a woman inside, he was so much tighter even with the stretching.  It was all he could to do keep from gasping out loud in desperation.

Dilandau let his head loll back, keening softly as he continued to press down, feeling his body resist the oversized intrusion until finally, the tight ring of muscle inside him gave way as he was finally breached and he felt the delicious burn of that miraculous shaft sliding into his body, spreading him wide open with its girth. 

His cry was harsh, sharp and full of animalistic need as he rocked his hips, slowly rising and falling on the impaling flesh with slow careful movements, taking in a little more of its length with every torturous thrust.  The feeling was indescribable as his muscles strained to accept the sheer girth of the impaling shaft and he distantly wondered if it would split him in half.  Never one to back down from a challenge, especially one as sweet at this, he rose up and sank down with relentless rhythm, thrilling at every inch of flesh sliding deeper, making him wonder if there was even an end to this or if Gaddes’ length went on forever.

It was by far the largest cock he’d ever ridden and he savoured every moment of his impalement.  Muscles protested, his passage burned and the heat began to build inside him, demanding more.

“Fanelian… Gaddes… this is… oh shit.  Fuck me you magnificent bastard!”  His voice rose in pitch as that bundle of nerves deep inside his body was speared by that glorious hardness and still more slid into his body, making his head spin.  It was sheer torture to keep his movements slow and sensual, letting his hips roll even as he rose and fell and by the time he felt the firm heat of his lovers balls resting against the his aching ass, he was panting loudly.  He could feel Gaddes’ pulse pounding inside him, echoing his own and the steady throb seemed to radiate through to his very soul.

His body screamed at him to rest, to adjust to the sheer size of the flesh filling him, but Dilandau was never one to rest when there was something more interesting to be done and with a loud groan, he began to rock his hips faster, clenching his abused muscles with every movement and squeezing ruthlessly. 

Favouring Gaddes with a feral grin, he gave his hips a sharp thrust, driving him deep into his very core and was rewarded with an almost strangled sounding scream.  The man had been doing a marvelous job holding still, restraining his desperate desire to move in tandem with the slow and maddening rocking of the youth’s body, letting him fuck himself with slow yet brutal relentlessness.  But he lost his battle against his desire with that single sharp thrust and found his hips rocking up to meet the next one with a loud slapping of flesh on flesh.

His large hands grabbed onto the perfectly rounded globes of Dilandau’s ass and squeezed them tightly as he lifted the youth up then pulled him down to meet with the sharp thrust of his hips, driving himself in deeply with every movement.  A sharp gasp greeted each motion and he could feel muscles quiver deep inside that delicious heat, squeezing him tightly, trying to pull him ever deeper.

“Yessss, oh yes, don’t stop!”  Dilandau’s voice grew harsh with his building desperation, his body writhing with wild abandon atop the darker man as they moved together, unaware of the world around them.  The fire could have raged out of control for all they cared, so long as they continued to rock against each other.

Adjusting his grip, Gaddes quickly rolled them over, pressing the youth into the ground with his own weight as his hands hooked behind slender knees, lifting them to rest on his shoulders and opening his young lover wide for his next thrust.  It took him even deeper into that perfect body and he felt that slick silken passage spasm around him as Dilandau screamed his name loudly, pleasure exploding inside him.  While Gaddes wasn’t exactly sure how he was accomplishing this, he knew that this angle was letting him hit something inside the youth that was driving him wild and he didn’t intend to stop until the arrogant captain was utterly undone.

Over and over again, that huge shaft speared and stroked his prostate, lighting up ever nerve in his body until he was positive that he was on fire with desperation, his fingernails scratching at his lovers back and his hips bucking sharply.  Pressure built up inside him, pressing against his flesh and threatening to tear him apart but still his body held on, seeking greater and greater heights of sensation.

“Harder!  Oh please!  Harder!  Drive me into the ground!”  Dilandau screamed out over and over.  He was unaware that he was begging and not caring so long as Gaddes continued to drive into him with bruising force, pushing himself deeper and deeper into his body until he was positive that he’d break apart into a thousand pieces of light.

When the pressure finally tore through the Dragonslayer, it was blinding in its intensity.  Every muscle in his body clenched tightly and he couldn’t even draw in air to scream.  Instead, he let out a high pitched keening sound that threatened to tear him apart for several seconds until he lost control of himself.  His body began bucking and writhing wildly as the sensations tearing through him turned him into a mad thing.  Dimly he was aware of screaming out Gaddes’ name repeatedly, shamelessly begging him not to stop, convinced that he’d die if he did.

Gaddes couldn’t have stopped for all of the treasures in the world and as the kid exploded around him, the clenching of his muscles and the writhing tightness pulled him into his own blistering climax.  His loins turned molten as his balls tightened almost painfully before releasing what felt like an entire geyser worth of his seed, leaving him thrusting desperately into that oh so tight quivering tunnel of silk until the world spun around him and stars danced across his vision.

He finally collapsed gasping on top of the youths quaking body, tracing tender kisses along the pale column of Dilandau’s throat, feeling those tight muscles still spasm around him, milking him of every last drop of seed as the kid moaned softly in sated pleasure.

“That… that was… gods of Gaea, you should be a national treasure.”  Dilandau murmured, capturing Gaddes’ lips with his own and practically melting into the kiss.   The statement was said with utter honesty and it flattered the man’s ego to be complimented so openly, though he was sure Dilandau would deny it later as post coital ramblings.

His entire body hummed with golden pleasure as he held the alabaster youth in his arms, not wanting to move ever again.  Still, he was dimly aware that he was likely crushing the boy beneath him and carefully lowered those slender legs from his shoulders before rolling off to the side and pulling the slender body tightly against him.  Part of him expected Dilandau to struggle and reject the idea of cuddling as being too soft and sentimental, but the boy snuggled into his embrace, taking one of his hands and raising it to his lips to bestow a tender kiss on the knuckles before closing his eyes.

They dozed off  in moments, the fight and the sex having drained them both completely, though Gaddes did wake slightly when Dilandau’s cloak was pulled over them both, giving them a little warmth aside from their own intimately entwined bodies. 

“I think I like hunting dragons.”  The second in command murmured softly, kissing the head of silver hair tenderly.  Dilandau gave no response save to snuggle a little closer into his embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Rude interruptions, reunions and lots of death! Yay death!
> 
> Allen is totally going to kill Gaddes for this, that is if Van doesn't first.


	14. Intersections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. It's sort of a shitty day for everyone on Gaea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own Vision of Escaflowne or the characters though I'm pondering buying the blueray, does that count for anything?
> 
> So, Gaddes and Dilandau have entered into a new level of their relationship, murdering people together! oh yeah... and sex. Allen isn't going to be happy about either of those things.

                Considering how mind blowing that night had been, the waking up left a lot to be desired.  They’d only been sleeping on the beach for a few hours, curled up tightly in each other’s arms and too exhausted to notice anything short of a war happening on top of them.  In their defense, they’d crashed a leviship, hunted a dragon and had mind blowing sex all within the space of a few hours.  That was bound to wear out anyone really, so was it really their fault for not hearing the approach of several booted feet?

It wasn’t until rough hands grabbed them both with bruising force, wrenching the lovers apart that they were even aware that they weren’t alone any longer.  Naked, with their weapons out of reach, it really wasn’t a best case scenario for either of them and both cursed and snarled loudly, struggling to rouse their still exhausted minds.

Being clearly the oldest and largest of the two, Gaddes seemed to be seen as the greater threat and he was quickly driven onto his stomach and pinned with his arms behind his back, face pressed into the dirt.  As he drew in breath to attack with a verbal barrage of rather blistering insults, a heavy weight pressed down on his spine.  Suddenly, the very act of breathing became a rather interesting challenge he felt he should pursue more seriously.

Though he tried to struggle, his attackers balance was secure and judging by the weight, the bastard had never missed a meal in his life!  It was a good thing they were on somewhat soft sand because if this had been stone, he was rather sure his ribs would have been crushed. 

Dilandau on the other hand was kicking and snarling like a mad thing as three men dragged him a few feet away, wanting space between the two.  A long knife was held at his throat, demanding that he hold still, but the young Dragonslayer was having none of that.  Oblivious to the blade, he twisted and thrashed, even going so far as to snap at any hands which drew too close to his mouth.  Along with the knife wielder, there was a man on each arm, struggling to hold him down on his knees and pin his arms behind him.  Though the albino youth was far more slender and finely built than his attackers, he seemed to be quickly gaining ground in his bid for freedom.

A fifth man, previously standing apart from the scuffle noticed this and stepped over to the struggling group.  With a snort of contempt, he kicked Dilandau solidly in his already bruised stomach, taking much of the fight out of him as the air was driven from his lungs in an explosive gasp. 

“Seriously?  You can’t handle one scrawny kid?”  He grumbled disapprovingly as his men quickly pinned the boy’s arms behind his back and held him still.  A slow cruel smile played across the leader’s large boned face as he took a moment to study Dilandau first, then Gaddes, his look was appraising and radiated an amused malevolence.

“Well well, look what we have here?  Did we interrupt something?”  He chuckled loudly, his men echoing him rather unnervingly.  “The perversions some people indulge in these days.  Tsk tsk.”  There wasn’t any disgust in his voice or manner, he was simply toying with them the way a spoiled cat would with a mouse. 

Beady dark eyes continued to study them with interest and in the light of the moon, Gaddes could make out the man’s ugly rough features.  Middle aged, he’d clearly led a rough life as evidenced by the deeply tanned pock marked skin of his face and the old dagger wound across one eye.  Any further to the right would have resulted in the man being blinded. 

Fat wet lips that glistened like slugs twisted into that cruel smile and there was a gap in his teeth where two were missing, likely knocked out in a fight of some sort.  His nose was also crooked, having been broken and badly set a few too many times.  All in all, he’d never be winning the hearts of fair maidens or gracing any romantic portraits anytime soon and Gaddes hated him on sight. 

Slug Lips, as Gaddes chose to dub the man, circled them once, viewing them both from all angles as they struggled, studying them the way one might with a horse they were considering purchasing.  Again he made that irritating tsking sound and then glanced over to the side as something on the ground caught his attention.

At first, Gaddes thought it might be the Dragenergist, a rare and valuable prize for any  ambitious thief, but it was hidden, half buried in the sand and covered in Dilandau’s cloak, unnoticed.  Instead, Slug Lips bent down and picked up the brats sheathed sword.

“Hmmm, Zaibach blade.  Cute, did you steal it from one of the battlefields?”  The weapon was held in front of Gaddes’ face almost accusingly.  Rather than answer, he did his best to spit at the bastard, but his position didn’t let him do much more than slobber on the man’s badly scuffed boots. 

Unconcerned, the leader wandered over to the second discarded sword; Gaddes’ blade and glanced at the two of them before holding it more or less in Dilandau’s direction.

“Look boys, the pretty little thing thinks himself as a warrior.”  On cue, the men all laughed as if this was some great joke, believing that the Astorian weapon belonged to the pale youth.  Gaddes was more than a little insulted that they’d automatically think that He was the one raiding the dead.  Sure, the kid was a perfect picture of well-bred Astorian nobility whereas Gaddes was clearly a mutt, but still!  At least the brat looked just as insulted by the insinuations though thankfully he showed the first bit of common sense in days and stayed silent.

Still, the boy was by no means beaten if the look he was giving Slug Lips was anything to go by.  His crimson eyes shone with killing rage and his wonderfully kissable lips were pulled back in a fierce snarl.  Honestly, despite the direness of the situation, Gaddes couldn’t help but be a little turned on by the Zaibach youth’s sheer ferocity and the way his whole body seemed to almost glow under the light of the moon.  He looked utterly ethereal, like some vengeful spirit made flesh.  Yeah, this wasn’t a good time to be admiring the brat.  Any minute now, blood was going to flow, and he had to be ready to react.

Oblivious to the danger he was in, Slug Lips tapped under Dilandau’s chin with the end of the sheathed sword, forcing his head up higher, studying his face.  Gaddes couldn’t help but tense, knowing that any minute now he’d be recognized and the goons would take the kid’s head for the undoubtedly massive reward.

 “I must say, it’s a nice surprise.”  He grunted in amusement rather than the fearful excitement recognition would bring.  “We came here expecting to find dragon leftovers; instead we find a lovely gift waiting for us, conveniently unwrapped and ready.”  Those tiny eyes glanced over at the goons pinning the youth and the smile widened a little more.  “What do you think men?  The boy will fetch a high price on the auction block once we break him in a little bit.  This one though.”  He turned to favour Gaddes with a dark glare as the man renewed his struggles, loathing the foul insinuations the man was making about his lover.  “I think we could make a worthwhile amount off of him in the mines.  Doesn’t the captain’s cousin run one?”

Several of the goons guffawed and the weight on Gaddes’ back pressed down just a little harder, forcing his lungs to compress painfully and squeezing out the insults he was about to throw at his captors.

“Yeah, work the bastard to the bone.  He looks the type who can handle that.”  The man on his back drawled, leaning forward to spit on Gaddes’ cheek, daring him to struggle.

“I know I could use a little fun.”  The man holding the knife on Dilandau gave the silver youth a rather pointedly lecherous smile.  “Especially since we can’t touch the damn cat bitch yet.”

Dilandau went still at those words and turned his head just enough to look at the armed man in the eyes.  He didn’t say anything or make any threatening gestures, but whatever was in those crimson pools of death made the man stiffen and almost draw back despite his superior position.  Still, he was visibly rattled and his tanned face now was noticeably several shades paler than before.

“Touch me and there won’t be enough left of you to feed the scavengers.”  That soft toned voice would have sent anyone who knew the kid running for the hills and begging all the gods of Gaea to spare them.  Even these goons, as ignorant as they were to the danger of the situation tightened their grip slightly on the boy’s arms. 

They were slowly starting to realize that Gaddes might not be the truly dangerous one here and the three men holding the youth didn’t seem nearly as confident as they had two minutes ago. 

Unfazed, Slug Lips used the sheathed sword to slap Dilandau across the face, leaving a red welt behind on the alabaster flesh.  

“You’re hardly in a position to deliver threats little boy.”  Slug Lips sneered.  “What you need is to learn proper obedience.  I think that we’re all going to enjoy teaching you a proper lesson in manners.  But to show that we’re not wholly cruel, we’ll let your lover watch.  He can take the memory of your pretty flesh to the mines with him for those cold lonely nights.” 

Gaddes felt a low enraged growl rising up from his throat and his muscles tensed, ready to throw the man pinning him aside and damn the consequences.  No one was going to hurt his brat and he’d kill them if they tried! 

“At least you’re already used, so we won’t be lessening your value if we have a little fun.  Pity about the scar though.”  Slug lips murmured, speaking those magic words to ensure Dilandau’s full fury.  “Still, Astorian’s sell rather well, especially one with your unique colouring.” 

Bringing up the old wound likely wasn’t the smartest thing the man could have done, touching the Dragonslayers face was just plain stupid even under the best circumstances.  Calling him Astorian however was simply beyond moronic and well beyond any insult the kid was willing to tolerate.  In the end, Gaddes was the only one who wasn’t surprised when the kid finally snapped and gave a blood curdling shriek of psychotic rage that could have sent a dragon running in terror. 

Despite the two men holding him down, he managed to leap forward just enough to kick his legs out, scissoring them across the leader’s knees and knocking him down to the ground as the joint gave way with a sickening crack.  Slug Lips screamed in absolute agony, dropping the swords in his shock. Before anyone could react, Dilandau then slammed his heel down onto the man’s throat hard enough that the crunch of bone and cartilage echoed across the little beach loudly.  

His then twisted his body around, using the strength of the men holding him as a brace, allowing him to bring his knee up and in a display of incredible flexibility, drove it into the skull of the knife wielder.  How the man stayed on his feet was a mystery, but the instant Dilandau felt the grip on his arms loosen, he wrenched his hand around, grabbing the knife hand with his own and twisting it back and upwards in a vicious strike.

These men had woefully underestimated the albino, seeing only the beautiful lithe youth and not recognizing the madness in his eyes.  Though he was badly outweighed by his captors, his strength far exceeded what his appearance implied.  Add in the sheer shock of his attack and there was almost no resistance as he slashed the knife across his attacker’s throat.  Unfortunately, the angle was bad and while the cut was deep, it missed the carotid artery, allowing the man to stumble back with his life… for a few more seconds at least.

Gaddes finally felt the man on top of him shift, off balance for the briefest of moments as he drew back at the sudden brutality taking place only a few feet away.  Muttering a silent prayer to Jeture and really any god who might be listening, Gaddes burst into motion, twisting his body to the side with every bit of strength he could muster.  There was no way he was going to let the kid claim absolute victory over these bastards.  He was not the damn damsel in distress, needing to be rescued by a bloody sixteen year old! 

The man who’d been pinning him tried to grab onto his shoulder for purchase, but Gaddes was already reaching for the sword Slug Lips had dropped.  Knowing that speed mattered more than anything, the instant his hands closed around the handle, he drove it back, slamming the pommel into whatever soft bit he could hit.

There was a howl of pain from above him as the solid metal struck something firmer than flesh, and the weight shifted a little more, allowing Gaddes to wrench himself free.  Muscles pulled and joints screamed in protest but adrenaline was flooding his system and he had no intention of slowing down.  Only now did he allow himself the moment it took to actually draw the sword, dimly realizing that it was Dilandau’s blade.  Still, the weapon cut wonderfully through the chinks in his adversaries armour and the splash of hot blood across his bare arms felt more than a little satisfying.

He wasn’t sure how many times he stabbed the man, but it was as many as it was satisfying and he didn’t stop until he was convinced that the bastard wasn’t going to be threatening anymore couples enjoying a night of post coital bliss.

All the while, Dilandau was facing off against his two remaining opponents, his mouth stretched in a wide wolfish grin, the splashes of blood across his face making his lovely features look ghastly.  His one bloody hand slipped easily through the grip of the man on his right but rather than grab at the astorian sword lying on the ground, he instead scooped up a handful of sand and threw it in the face of the man still holding his left hand. 

Blinded, the man reeled back, foolishly releasing the vicious youth, allowing him to lunge backwards out of their reach and grab the sword.  This gave him enough time to draw it in a low and deadly arc, slashing the tip of the blade against the blinded man’s arms, relieving him of both his hands permanently.   

Without pausing, Dilandau spun around, his sword cutting a perfect arc once again, only this time it sliced across the face of his second captor, blinding the man with the vicious cut.  Gaddes knew that the wound wasn’t accidental; the kid was planning to take his time with the bastards, wanting to make them pay for their sick intentions.  Jeture forgive him, but Gaddes was more than happy to let him do it too. 

As the man fell back screaming and clutching the ruins of his face, Dilandau finally rose to his feet, giving his sword a negligent flick to clear off some of the gore as he glared at the man he’d so literally disarmed moments before. 

“You should know that I’m not Astorian.”  He all but purred, his bloody hand reaching up to stroke his scarred cheek.  The handless man stared at his ruined arms with wide glassy eyes, barely comprehending what had just happened.  Slowly, his eyes rose to the point of the bloody blade, following it back to the youth who held it.  “My name is Captain Dilandau Albatou, and I’m from Zaibach.”  Only now did comprehension begin to leak into the man’s eyes and he drew back in absolute terror at the red eyed demon standing in front of him.  “And I did warn you about touching me.”  The smile that tugged at the albino’s lips was almost tender if you didn’t take into account the shining madness in his eyes. 

The laughter that flowed through those perfect lips was bone chilling, but for once Gaddes didn’t mind though he still had to turn away as the kid made his threat a reality.  The already maimed and dying men were put out of their misery save for the one who’d held the knife to Dilandau’s throat.  Him, the vicious youth simply knocked to the ground before pinning him to the ground with the man’s own sword through the gut. 

“He’ll die soon enough.”  Dilandau sneered, glaring at his screaming victim who was still clutching his bleeding neck with one hand while the other clawed at the impaling blade.  “But not before the scavengers get to him.” 

Gaddes wanted to feel bad for the man.  It was a hideous way to die and utterly excruciating.  The throat wound simply wasn’t deep enough to end his suffering, though the stench of blood which now permeated the little beach was already drawing several lambent eyes to the edge of the greenery. Hardening his heart, the darker man reminded himself that this was the man who’d held a knife to Dilandau, who’d made light of raping him.  No, that man didn’t deserve an ounce of mercy. 

Rather than grant a quick death, Gaddes instead bent down and picked up their discarded clothing, Dilandau’s cloak and the dragenergist, moving them all away from the gore covered ground.  He had barely gone twenty feet away when he heard the first of the scavengers approaching and the desperate pitch to the pinned man’s screams.   

Undisturbed by the sounds taking place only a short distance away, Dilandau had walked into the lake, sword still in hand and was calmly washing the blood and dirt from his body.  Damn if the kid didn’t look like he was actually enjoying a soothing moonlit bath.  The sheer surrealistic quality of the scene made Gaddes shiver and he did his best to try to block out the increasingly desperate screams behind him as he stepped into the water and began to frantically scrub away at the blood covering his own skin.  He could just picture what the hell he was going to tell the boss when they got back.  Oh what a fun conversation that was going to be.

“So, Boss.  First, I helped your kid brother go dragon hunting in Fanelia, then screwed him into the ground like you wouldn’t believe just before we slaughtered some armed bastards and staked one out to die while we bathed.  How was your night?”  Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well at all.  How the hell did he get himself into situations like this?  It wasn’t like he intentionally set out to do any of it… yet here he was, washing away like nothing was wrong in the world.  Dammit would that guy just die already!?  He shot an angry glance over his shoulder and instantly regretted having the visuals to go with the sounds.  It was simply too much and the world began to spin around him dizzingly.

All he could do was race to the shore on increasingly wobbly legs, determined not to vomit in the water he was standing in.  Worse, water the kid was standing in.  He’d never live it down if he did that.

It was a close call and as soon as hit feet hit solid ground he collapsed to his knees.  Thankfully, there wasn’t much in his stomach and the bile burned his throat as it came up, but at least his stomach felt slightly more settled afterwards, allowing him to draw in deep shuddering breaths. 

Just don’t listen to the screams, focus on the sounds of the kid bathing.  Those were peaceful sounds, comforting sounds… just blood being washed off of skin he’d kissed only a few hours ago… oh Jeture this was a nightmare.  His stomach tried to heave again, cramping painfully when nothing came up and he groaned softly and wiped his now foul lips on his arm.

Dimly, he could make out the sound of Dilandau moving through the water towards him and could easily imagine the sneer of contempt at his weakness for daring to care about another human beings suffering.  Instead, he was surprised to feel a cool hand trace along his spine before resting gently on his back.  The touch offered comfort and support rather than the contemptuous slap he’d been expecting.

“Get it out of your system then wash up.”  Dilandau’s voice was surprisingly gentle, his rage washed away with the blood.  “We need to get moving quickly.”  Risking a glance up at the youth, Gaddes saw him smile slightly and the hand on his back rose up to affectionately stoke through his hair.  Damn if it didn’t feel good after all the crap they’d just been through.

“Are you ok?”  He found himself asking, unsure of how the kid would respond to those vile threats and insinuations after what had happened to Celena only two short weeks ago.  It was more than a little unnerving to see Dilandau shrug and glance over at the nightmarish scene on the beach calmly.

“Why shouldn’t I be?  They were pathetic and really it’s my own fault for sleeping so deeply.  I should know better.”

“I meant about what they said…”  He didn’t want to push the youth, but this wasn’t the sort of thing one could just brush off.  Though granted, he was currently admiring the way scavengers were tearing apart a screaming man, so maybe he was dealing in his own way.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard a hundred times growing up.  The problem was sufficiently dealt with.”  The kid didn’t look at all upset and Gaddes shuddered, not wanting to think about what those zaibach bastards had put him through to be so nonchalant about the whole mess.

As if sensing his thoughts, Dilandau glanced down at him and raised a silvery eyebrow in a gesture of utterly elegant amusement.

“Cursing us Zaibach barbarians are we?  Calling us crude and vicious monsters in your head?”  He didn’t sound insulted at all and Gaddes risked a slight nod to his head.  This sort of seemed like a time for honesty all things considered.

“I suppose I can’t argue some points of that.  Our infantry weren’t exactly genteel society especially when you’re a little kid who happened to look as unique as I did, but what those men said wasn’t any worse than I heard whispered behind my back at the Astorian court either.”  Gaddes opened his mouth to speak, wanting to refute such a foul claim but Dilandau cut him off neatly.  “Oh they used fancier words of course, talking about how I would adorn so and so’s household nicely, calling me the Strategos’ catamite.  A few of the even suggested plying me with enough drinks so that they could check and see if I was actually a boy.  I was barely fourteen at the time.”  His deft fingers stroked through Gaddes’ hair once more before he took a step back.  “I couldn’t touch those bastards, so I took apart their champion in front of them.  Stripped his stupid guymelef armour away piece by piece until my sword was at his throat.  I have to admit that castrating him publically to send a message to those so called Astorian nobles was more than a little tempting, but Folken had ordered me to behave or be grounded for a month.”

Gaddes felt a swelling of shame for the words of his countries nobles and worse, the jokes so easily bantered back and forth between the crew regarding the youth.  No wonder he avoided the showers when the other men were present, especially knowing the price should he retaliate.  They’d gotten off easy with the food poisoning all things considered.  Jeture, Gaddes would start swinging his sword around too at the slightest provocation if this sort of thing was the norm for the young captain.  It made sense that he’d cultivate such a terrifying image that no one would dare make insinuations like that again.  The risk was too high of some idiot taking the jokes to heart.

“I’m sorry.”  He found himself saying, speaking not just for himself but for the crew as well.  “I’m sorry if any of us ever said anything like those bastards.  No one on the crew would ever hurt you.”  That earned him a soft laugh of contempt and he supposed that he’d walked into that.  Allen was about the only one who could lay a hand on the kid and live.  “This is coming out wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it.  I don’t honestly care what they say.  Like I said, I grew up with those comments.  It’s hardly going to bother me now.  It’s the intent I pay attention to, not the words.  Now finish washing.  We need to get moving.” 

Dilandau glanced to the northwest of them, his face calm and serene though there was an alertness to his stance which warned Gaddes that all wasn’t well.  It reminded him of a hunting hound straining at their leash and it put the older man on guard for another attack.

“You think there are more of them?”

“I know there’s more.  They mentioned their captain and a girl.  These men were scouts for a larger group.”

“Great… and soon they’ll wonder why their scouts didn’t come back.  We need to get to the Crusade and warn them.  Hopefully Katz has the propeller fixed by now.”  Dilandau shook his head and walked over to the pile of clothing, sorting out which ones were his and frowning at the wrinkles as he shook them free of sand.

“We’re not heading back to the ship.  I want to take a look at this group.”  It took every ounce of self-restraint Gaddes possessed to keep from rolling his eyes at that statement.  Why wasn’t he surprised?

“We’re injured and exhausted.  Let’s call it even and leave the rest of them to whatever they’re doing.”  Even as he spoke, he knew that wasn’t going to happen.  The kid had that stubborn look in his eyes, the same look Allen got when someone told him no.

“My injuries are superficial and I’m not tired.  I’ll go on without you if I have to.  I can find my way back to the ship well enough.”  Dilandau flashed Gaddes a sidelong glance as he pulled up his pants and fastened them with brusque efficiency and the older man felt a slight pang at the loss of the sight of all of that beautiful flesh.  Dammit, he wouldn’t be turned on right now… focus on the sounds of scavengers eating people… that should kill his burgeoning erection.  “Though it sounds like the girl is likely a prisoner.  It would be a shame to find out what those men intend to do to her.”  Manipulative little pigmentally challenged bastard.

Gaddes flashed him a dark glare as he stomped into the water, quickly rinsing out his mouth and washing away any traces of vomit as well as the last stubborn bits of blood.  At least the carnage on the other shore was better now that the man seemed to have finally died.  That left just the snarling and snapping of the animals to serenade them as he quickly sloshed back to shore and used his shirt to towel off before putting his clothes back on.  It was still damnably dark out, though the moon and the Mystic Moon provided enough light to manage the task.  How Dilandau was going to track his way to these bastards main camp was anyone’s guess.  Most likely he’d make a statement about having superior night vision or something. 

At least he had the satisfaction on seeing that the brat appeared to be a little stiff in his movements after last night’s fun.  While he didn’t complain at all, Gaddes took immense satisfaction in knowing that he’d been the cause of the youth’s discomfort.  There was also the added benefit of it forcing the brat to move at a much more human pace, because suddenly Gaddes was feeling every one of his twenty three years.

*********************

 

A few hours ago

 

 

Van was doing his best to sit up straight in the saddle but he’d long ago accepted that there simply wasn’t any way to get comfortable while he was tied up.  All he could do was endure, just like he’d been doing every other day since this nightmare began.  His shoulders had stopped aching after the first day and he’d resigned himself to the strange numbness that seemed to swallow up his arms.  His back on the other hand screamed with every movement he made and every day he grew a little more slouched.

The worst was when he had to go to the bathroom.  The bastards wouldn’t even unchain him for that simple function.  Instead, he had a guard assigned to him, specifically to help him with such little tasks and neither of them appreciated it.  Still, it was better than what poor Merle had to endure.  Though she could take care of such actions herself, there was always a guard present watching her.  The men drew lots to see who would get the chance and it sickened the young king.

His dear friend was suffering badly over the course of their journey and it made him worry more and more about what her future would entail if he couldn’t get them out of this mess soon.  Forced to walk along with the foot soldiers even while tied, she’d stumbled so often that her knees and elbows were a bloody mess.  She’d lost weight, her fur had grown dull and limp and lately her tail had begun dragging on the ground, as if she simply didn’t have the strength to lift it back to its usual jaunty angle.  It had only been three days and he didn’t want to hazard a guess as to what would happen if this treatment continued.

The first time she’d sassed one of the guards she’d been beaten with heavy fists until she was barely conscious.  The rest of the men had laughed and Van had raced over to try to protect her, only to be restrained by his own “personal guards.”  In protest over her treatment, he’d then refused any food given him but that had backfired as well.  Captain Mantress had simply smirked at him and ordered that for as long as he refused to eat, Merle would be denied both food AND water.  It was as cruel as it was effective and Van hated himself for having to comply, but he couldn’t compound his friend’s misery.

For all of the abuse they heaped on the cat girl, they treated Van like some sort of valuable treasure.  He rode in front of Captain Mantress on one of the few horses in the troupe.  Food was given to him regularly as was clean water and no one dared lay a hand on him despite the looks of loathing he received from many of the men.  There was no doubt that most of them would love nothing more than to slit his throat, but this mysterious contract kept them at bay.  Whoever wanted Van badly enough to send armed mercenaries after him wanted him in top physical condition and that was a worrying thought all on his own. 

It couldn’t be ransom, Fanelia was barely going to scrape through the winter as it was and it certainly wasn’t for political influence.  While the King had been the hero in the Destiny War, he still held little weight against the councils of the other countries.  All he could think of was that they wanted Escaflowne for themselves and only a member of the Royal Blood could pilot it… but then why hadn’t they mentioned the guymelef?  Was there another group storming his castle for the precious armour?  Were more of his people being cut down senselessly?  It was maddening and kept his mind spinning with countless horrifying scenarios, each one worse than the last until he wanted to be sick.

He was so wrapped up in what might be happening far to the north that he barely even noticed when the group of them drew to a stop at the top of a small hill and a nervous murmur rippled through the men.  It was then that he heard it, the scream of a raging dragon. 

It had been nearly a year and a half since he’d heard that sound and it immediately brought to mind memories of Hitomi and the Mystic Moon.  Had it been so long?  So much had changed and right now, he wasn’t sure if it was for the better.

“What was that?  A dragon?”

“I hate this country.  How long until we reach the meeting point?”

“What got a dragon that upset?  Think some idiot tried to hunt it?”

“Look! Smoke!”  More men began crying out nervously as the king turned his head to look in the direction several were pointing in.  Indeed, there was an impressive line of smoke rising up from the forest only an hour or so walk from where they were.  The lush environment wouldn’t create a wildfire, but the green wood certainly released a lot of smoke as it smoldered.  All Van could do was hope that whatever poor bastard who’d decided to pit themselves against a dragon had died quickly.  They’d deserved their fate as far as he was concerned.  The dragons were sacred to Fanelia and deserved to be left in peace.

Tearing his gaze away from the smoke, he looked down at his own hands, remembering how he himself had wielded a sword against one of the mighty giants.  How he’d torn its energist from its chest in order to prove himself Fanelia’s rightful king and inherit Escaflowne.  He’d been so young and arrogant back then and he fervently preyed that he’d grown over the course of the resulting war.  Becoming the sort of king his parents… that Folken would have been proud of meant so much to him, but now here he was, poised to lose Fanelia for a second time.

“Fortuitous timing.  We’ll make camp for the night.  Send out the scouts.”  Captain Mantress ordered brusquely.  “There might be something valuable on whatever idiot is about to die, and we might get lucky and the dragon could be injured.  If it is, bring me back its energist.  There’s no harm in us making some money on the side.”  Several of the man laughed in agreement and camp was set up with its usual quick efficiency.

A large fire was built and game which had been caught along the way began to cook, filling the air with its savoury aroma.  Van desperately hoped that Merle would get some food tonight, and water.  As soon as the halt had been called, she’d dropped to her knees panting, her eyes unfocussed.  Even now, she was curled up in a tight ball, shivering in the growing coolness of the night.  There would be no blanket for her and if Van shared his with her, it would only be taken away.  He wanted to pull her into his arms so badly and stroke her ears, whispering that everything would be alright, that he’d find a way out, but he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her.  All he could do was try to meet her eyes and send her wordless encouragement.  Tonight was the first time she didn’t raise her head to meet his gaze.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her as the sun set on the horizon and the two moons rose up overhead.   They’d fed her tonight and given her a miniscule portion of water which she drank eagerly but Van was still worried.  His friend was fading fast and might not make it much longer if this treatment continued.

Sighing heavily, he looked up at the Mystic Moon looming large and blue in the sky.  Hitomi, where are you?  I could really use your insight right about now.  Who’s behind this?  What do they want with me and why?  There was no answer forthcoming.  There usually wasn’t.  Their connection was tenuous at best as they both had their own lives to live, worlds apart. 

He truly wished that she could have stayed on Gaea, not just for him, but for Fanelia as well.  Her powers could have given them the rich harvest they so desperately needed.  She could have foreseen so many threats and problems, giving them time to prepare.  Even if she’d simply shared in some of the strange technologies of her world to help the lives of his people… His hands clenched into fists as he realized where his mind was leading him. 

In doing that, Hitomi would have eventually become another Dornkirk.  Zaibach had once been in similar straits hadn’t it?  Folken had said that before the Emperor, Zaibach had been a poor country, barely able to sustain its meager populace and always plagued by sickness, famine and the predations of neighbouring countries.  Dornkirk had changed that, using his visions to guide the country to prosperity, protecting them and teaching them the technologies and philosophies of the Mystic Moon.  He’d saved them, and in that process, damned them to a twisted existence where human experimentation, foul sorceries and military domination became the norm. 

That’s why Hitomi had left.  She’d seen this future waiting for her on Gaea and chosen to let Van and his people rebuild themselves naturally rather than risk treading in their enemies footsteps.  In that regards, he was eternally grateful, but right now he could really use some help!

There was no pillar of light arching down from the Moon to grant his dreams and when he closed his eyes and focussed on a way to salvation, all he saw was that image of Hitomi’s pendant pointing south.   Freid perhaps?   But did it mean that he would find his salvation in the Duchy of Freid?  Or that someone was coming from that direction?  Or that Prince Cid was going to help him?  Ugh, this is why he never tried to use this ability outside of battle.  Only Hitomi had ever been good at understanding it.  

Frustrated, he lay down on the ground and bunched the thin blanket they’d given him under his head.  He felt bad using it as a blanket while knowing that Merle had nothing.  Still, the night was cool enough to make him shiver slightly and the sounds of the camp settling down for the night did nothing to ease the growing nervousness he’d felt since seeing the line of smoke in the trees.  Something was about to change.  He could feel it in his bones, but whether it was for good or ill remained to be seen.

Off to the side, he could hear the captain speaking to one of his lieutenants, but they were too quiet to make out the words above the sound snoring from the one of the two guards flanking him.  They would take turns throughout the night, one sleeping while the other watched him.  It ensured that one was always alert for any attempt at escape.

Despite the concerns weighting on his mind, he had actually managed to doze off for a few hours when something woke him up.  It wasn’t anything tangible, but he knew without a doubt that something was wrong.  The camp was quiet… too quiet.  He could barely hear any snoring and there was no rustling from any of the lookouts.  Frowning, he held himself perfectly still, trying to assess the situation before alerting anyone that he was awake.   Drawing in a slow deep breath, he could suddenly smell it on the air.  Blood.  A lot of blood.

Bolting to his feet, he fell over his own chains with a grunt and his guard stood up, drawing his sword in surprise, just in time to see a shadow to move behind him.  The guard stiffened, let out a soft strangled gasp and then sank slowly to the ground.  His descent was helped by the dark figure behind him and Van struggled to crawl away from the spreading pool of blood and the death which loomed so close. 

“If you don’t want to be rescued Fanelia, just say so and I’ll leave, but I went through a lot of trouble to get here.”  A gruff voice chided him in a rather companionable manner.  It was familiar to his ears though so out of place that it actually took the young king a few moments to process it. 

“Gaddes?!”  The Crusade crew was here?  That meant Allen!  While he wasn’t thrilled about being found in such a sad position, he wasn’t about to complain over any rescue at this point.  “Am I ever glad to see you!  Merle is here too, we have to help her, she can’t escape on her own and needs a doctor!”  The tall Astorian stepped over the corpse and glanced down at the second guard who was just starting to wake up.  Before the man’s eyes were fully open, Gaddes’ sword flashed down mercilessly, nearly parting the man’s head from his shoulders.

Van turned away, shock warring with horror over what had just happened.  While he loathed the men guarding him for what they’d done, and were likely going to do, cold blooded murder still appalled him.

“Well get the girl free in a moment, right now I want you up and ready.  The more swords we have the better.  I’ve only killed a few of the guards and I’m pretty sure the brat isn’t going to stay quiet for much longer.”  Van shook his head, unsure as to who Gaddes was referring to, but was still pleased that there was now a rescue taking place.

“Where’s Allen?”  He couldn’t quite picture the noble Knight of Caeli condoning the murder of sleeping men.  Not that it mattered, so long as they got out of here.  “Where’s the Crusade?”

“It’s about four hours walk to the south of us, barring any more dragons paying us a visit.  The Boss is back in Astoria… he sort of doesn’t know we’re here.  I’ll explain later.  Who the hell chained you up like that?”  None of those questions, or even the answers boded well for this rescue but Van pushed his concerns aside.  He’d find out what was going on later.  Right now they had to get away.

“Captain Mantress has the keys.  He’s over…crap!”  Normally he did his best not to be vulgar, but it was the only word which came to mind as he glanced over at the leaders sleeping roll and found it empty.  Worse, he now heard alarms being raised all over camp as bodies were discovered. 

A bloodcurdling scream echoed across the camp and was quickly cut off with a wet gurgle.  The remaining men gathered together, scanning the darkened forest for the attacking force.  One happened to see Van and his visitor and pointed a hand in their direction, opening his mouth to yell an alert.  He never got a chance to make a sound as a knife flew out of the darkness, embedding itself deep into one of his eyes. 

Gaddes rolled his eyes in annoyance as the man crumpled to the ground amidst his fellows.

“Dammit, I told him to stay quiet.  Just a simple in and out… you think I’d learn.”  He muttered under his breath then looked at Van and for the first time, the king noticed that the tall Astorian looked both uncomfortable and very guilty.  “Look… I don’t suppose this is a good time to warn you, but you won’t like who I’m with.   All I’m asking is that you two play nice until we can get everything settled then we can-”

“Verrik?  Is that you?”  A playfully cheerful voice run out from the darkness causing the milling men to grow silent as Van’s blood froze.  “I can’t believe you’re still alive you old bastard.  It’s been what, two years?  How’ve you been?”

Van hadn’t thought his situation could get any worse, but it had just taken a nosedive and he honestly didn’t know what to do.  It was impossible, he couldn’t be hearing that voice… that cruel silken purr always dripping with menace and the promise of violence.  No… he was gone.  Allen had promised that he was gone!

“I can explain.”  Gaddes murmured softly at his side.  “I really can, but just stay quiet and don’t let him see you.”  As if Van was going to charge that madman while so heavily chained that he could hardly move.  All he could do was slowly inch back into the shadows, hoping that he hadn’t been noticed.

“Captain Albatou.”  Verrik Mantress stepped forward into the fires light, holding Merle’s barely conscious body in his hand, practically dragging her exhausted form on the ground.  Like Van, that familiar voice had awoken the girl and she stared in horrified shock, struggling to comprehend how things had fallen even further apart. 

“I’d heard that you died during the final battle.”  The leader of the mercenaries didn’t sound afraid at all, though there was certain wariness in his movements and he kept the cat girl in front of him like a living shield. 

The statement was greeted by that familiar insane giggle, as if Dilandau had just heard a wonderful joke and as Van watched, a figure stepped out of the darkness and pulled back its hood.  Silver hair and snow white skin glowed in the light of the two moons, but it was the eyes which captured everyone.  They shone with an unsettling bloodlust that the king could see even from a distance.

“Reports were grossly exaggerated I assure you.”  Dilandau drawled, sounding more like some noble trading idle gossip than a feature villain in everyone’s worst nightmare.  “I’m actually surprised you’re still alive myself.  Didn’t I tear your regiment apart in Basram?  How are you doing?”  The youth smiled almost warmly and held up his left hand, previously hidden in the shadows.  A severed head was held in its grip, dangling by several locks of bloody hair.  With a negligent flick of his wrist, the Dragonslayer captain tossed the remains at Verrik’s feet.

“Your men are just as pathetic as always.  At least the five you sent out earlier made some scavengers rather fat.  I suppose that’s something a man of your limited abilities could be proud of.”

Van felt his stomach clench in disgust as he watched the exchange and his fingers curled into fists as he was forced to listen to the psychopath who’d burned his kingdom taunt the man who’d kidnapped him and his friend.  If there was ever a time for a dragon to attack, this was certainly it!

Rather than respond to the insults, the mercenary captain held up the quivering kitten like a trophy, or a warning.  His sword was drawn and pointed at her throat, ready to strike should the Zaibach warlord take a single step closer.  Behind him, his men simply looked downright terrified and several glanced around as if expecting an enemy force to be attacking at any moment.

“Back away unless you want her blood on your hands Albatou.”  Verrik snarled and Van’s heart sank at the contemptuous laugh he received in return.

“Is that the kings little pet?  I think I recognize that pathetic ball of fluff.  Damn, she’s really let herself go.”  Dilandau sneered and shifted his grip slightly on his sword, lazily scanning the rest of the group as if the captain and his hostage weren’t any concern of his.  “Why are you holding her up?  Ooooh, I see, you think that I won’t attack if you have her.”  His laugh was full of pure delight and he took several deliberate steps closer.  Gaddes tensed in anger at the albino’s audacity and prayed that he wasn’t about to see innocent blood spilled over a power game between psychopaths.

“Kill her if you want, though I’m sure you’re keeping her alive for a reason other than amusement.  What could it be?”  The hand holding his sword rose up and he absently stroked the scar on his cheek, those bloody red eyes of his flickering in Van’s direction as his smile widened and became a tad unhinged. 

“So many of your men are already dead Verrik, can you smell the blood in the air?”  He drew in a deep breath and sighed in pleasure at the foul coppery stench that permeated the camp.  “My men have you surrounded and we honestly don’t care about your fluffy hostage.  What I do care about is that you took something of mine.”  The smile and playfulness of Dilandau’s attitude vanished as if someone had flicked a switch inside him.  Now he moved like a stalking cat and radiated barely controlled rage.

“Van is mine.  His blood and his life are mine.”  Gaddes swore softly and shifted slightly wishing that the kid would shut up about that.  It really wasn’t going to help them rescue the man if he was convinced that his rescuers wanted him dead.  Wishing things weren’t going downhill quite so quickly, he put himself between the king and the young captain, just in case he became sidetracked.  He really didn’t want to fight the kid, especially after what they’d just shared.  While he had no illusions of defeating the albino, he might at least be able to buy the king enough time to escape… might.

“He’s already bought and paid for Albatou.”  The mercenary leader snarled angrily.  “You lost your chance with him.  Zaibach will have to look elsewhere for their revenge.”

“Then who do I kill after I’m done with you?”  If Dilandau thought he was being reasonable, he was sorely mistaken.  Worse, he was still approaching, daring Verrik to make good on his threat to kill Merle.  Van growled low in his throat and made to move forward, chains or no chains, but Gaddes held out his arm, barring his way.

“Trust me on this one Van, he’s on our side.”  Dark eyes pleaded with him to understand but the king wasn’t having any of it.  He’d seen just how insane and vindictive the other youth was and despite the promise he’d made to Allen to stay away from his sibling, he wasn’t about to let that monster run rampant a second time.  Gods, Allen… had Dilandau killed him?  What about the rest of the crew?  Why was Gaddes working with him? 

“No one gets in the way of my revenge!”  Dilandau snarled, his steps blurring into a run as he charged the larger man.  Verrik was faced with a suddenly less than ideal choice.  Waste the time to kill Merle and not only lose his leverage against the king, but not have enough time to block the attack, or throw the girl aside and protect his own hide.  It was a simple enough decision and Merle fell to the ground with a loud grunt, instantly trying to worm herself away from the fight as blades clashed together overhead.

“Merle!”  Van called out, racing past Gaddes as quickly as his chains would let him while the crusade crewmember cursed loudly and vividly about teenagers and their lack of forward planning.  There wasn’t anything that Gaddes could really do to salvage the situation other than keep between the other soldiers and Van, hoping that he could out bluff them.  At least there were only six men left, but that was six more than he was ready to fight.  His ankle was killing him, his shoulder was screaming in pain and he was pretty sure that his spine wasn’t aligned properly anymore.   Was it wrong to seriously envy Kio and Katz who were safely on the ship right now?  Sure, he’d gotten laid in rather spectacular fashion, but had it been worth this madness?  His heads seemed to disagree on that particular matter and that just frustrated him even further.

“Alright you bastards!”  He yelled at the milling mercenaries, deciding that if he was going to be full of pent up frustrations, he might as well put it to good use.  “You stay there and you live.  You move, you die.  I have had a seriously fucked up day today and I have to admit that I really want one of you to piss me off!”  He was just one man, but apparently the look in his eyes was comparable to that of the brat because no one stepped forward despite their superior armour and numbers.

Behind him, Dilandau danced with the captain in a lethal storm of blades, darting in and out of the man’s defences with deadly grace.  His opponent was good, he had weight and age on his side, but Dilandau had speed, raw cunning and the boundless energy that only madness could provide.  His first attack sliced along the edge of Verrik’s gauntlet, drawing a line of crimson blood across the back of his arm but not crippling the man.  In response, he ducked a slash aimed at decapitating him and followed closely by a downward strike.  A simple twist of his blade sent it off to the side, leaving his opponents head exposed but Dilandau didn’t take it.  He’d seen that slight shift of balance in his opponent’s hips and was ready for the sudden stab at his midsection.  The blades caught against each other and the two warriors struggled to dominate the other’s sword.

“You never did know when to back off Verrik.”  Dilandau sneered over the crossed blades at his enemy.  “I kicked your ass twice before.  This time I’m annoyed enough to make sure you don’t crawl away.”

“Big words for a little freak who ran from the final battle.  Where’ve you been hiding all this time Albatou?  Rumour has it that there’s an impressive price on your head.”

“Tell me who wants my toy and I’ll tell you where I’ve been.”

“You killed my men.”

“They were pathetic, and really, that’s what you’re fixating on?  At least be mad at me over the little kiss my sword gave you in our first fight.”  Dilandau grinned evilly, taking a moment to glance at the old scar slicing down the captain’s face.  “Can’t say that it did any improvement to your looks though.”  The two combatants broke apart, narrowly missing each other’s following attacks, their blades clashing loudly with every parry.

“You’re nothing without your pet slayers Albatou.  I hear they all screamed like little girls as the king tore them apart.  Do you miss your boyfriends?  I bet you do.”  Verrik sneered, attacking ruthlessly as he spoke, hoping to catch the Dragonslayer captain off guard.  It had been well documented that after the fall of the Dragonslayers in Freid that their captain had vanished from the war for several weeks and had been erratic since then. 

Rather than wounding the youths delicate psyche, the words seemed to further enrage him and those eerie crimson eyes shone unnaturally in the light of the twin moons.  The look on the boy’s face was barely human it was twisted so badly with bloodlust and the mercenary captain remembered why he’d retreated from the child warrior in the past.  Suddenly, the contract for Van Fanel didn’t seem quite as appealing as it had been moments ago.

“Basram!”  He blurted out before he could stop himself.  “I was hired by General Tsuei from Basram to get Van Fanel delivered to him!  I didn’t ask why and they didn’t say, but the freak is worth his weight in gold!”  As he spoke, he backed away, still keeping his sword at the ready.  After crossing blades with Albatou in the past, he knew that victory might not stop him when he wanted to kill, and judging by the look on the kids face, killing was exactly what he had in mind.

“Tsuei is a bloated self-important bastard with the tactical intuition of a senile koi fish.  Who else is behind it.”  Dilandau snarled softly, stalking the man aggressively, ready to attack the instant he saw a hole in the man’s defense.

“That’s it!  That’s the only man I saw!”  Verrik almost yelled, still backing away, moving towards his men in the hopes that one of them would be stupid enough to draw the ire of the albino.  “I’m telling the truth!!  There was only Tsuei at the meeting… but… but I did see another man for a moment before… tall and gaunt.  He was bald with glasses, a long pointed nose and pierced ears!  I’ve never seen him before in my life!”  He was babbling now, desperate to keep the demon away from him.  At his description of the second man however, Dilandau froze his relentless advance, the point of his sword dropping slightly as a look of shock filled his face, draining away the bloodlust.  For a moment, it didn’t look like he even saw Verrik and instead stared off into another world, one which was none too pleasant judging by the dawning look of horror in his eyes.

Seeing his chance, Verrik lunged forward, eager to regain his dignity after all the losses he’d suffered from this child.  His sword slashed out and he yelled out in anticipation of his victory but stumbled as he felt the impact of something in the side of his neck.  Momentum caused him to stumble forward another step, his coordination vanishing almost instantly, causing his attack to draw little more than a thin line of blood across Dilandau’s shoulder.  Verrik wanted to feel some satisfaction from the wound, but all his fading consciousness did was disgustedly note that the freak didn’t even seem to notice.

Legs refused to hold his weight and with a third step, he crumpled to the ground, Gaddes’ throwing dagger lodged deep in his throat.  Confused, he swallowed several times and reached up a trembling hand to feel the weapon buried inside his flesh, not understanding how it had gotten there.  He never heard the footsteps coming up behind him or felt the slice of the sword which took off his head just below the dagger.  _Bastard never even noticed_ still echoed in his head before darkness engulfed him.

“Kid, you ok?”  Gaddes kept his movements slow and deliberate as he approached the Zaibach warrior, unsure of if he’d even be recognized.  Last time Dilandau had had that distant look in his eyes, he’d ended up with a knife at his throat, and this would be a rather bad time to repeat that little escapade.

“He’s still alive…”  The boy was trembling visibly now and to his shock, Gaddes actually saw a single shimmering tear well up in the corner of his eye.  It trailed gently down the snowy white cheek to mingle with the crimson of blood splatter.  “How… how could he still be alive?  Why him?”  Realizing that Dilandau was about to crumble to the ground, Gaddes forgot all about the potential danger and darted forward, catching him just as his knees gave out.

Van and Merle stood there in shock, watching their friend carefully holding the monster who’d burned their homeland to ash, unsure as to what they should do.  Off to the side, the mercenaries stood there as well.  Their leader had fallen, they were still some distance from their meeting point and while their target was still bound in chains and within reach, none dared to make that final deciding move of taking him back into custody.  Retreat would have normally been a viable option, but off in the distance, they could hear a dragon’s cry, followed by a second voice in answer, the sound echoed by several other large and predatory sounding animals.  This was not an area to travel lightly and they were now at less than half strength.

“Um… Gaddes?”  The king finally spoke up, unsure of why he was watching a friendly, almost tender moment between two bitter enemies.  “Er… can I get let out of these chains?”

At the sound of his voice Gaddes looked up and then suddenly looked incredibly guilty as he realized that he was holding the Dragonslayer captain in his arms.  Nodding at the king, he looked back at Dilandau, still unsure as to who this mysterious figure was, but considering the kids past, he knew it was likely very bad to cause such a reaction.

“Are you going to be ok?”  He asked softly, relieved to see that familiar steely glint in the kids eyes as he suddenly seemed to realize that he was acting weak in front of enemies.  Coolly, Dilandau brushed aside the embrace and stood up; radiating all of the arrogance of a well decorated elite Zaibach captain. 

Putting his booted foot on the severed head, he casually pulled the knife free of the raw stump of neck and handed it back to Gaddes with a slight nod of thanks then stepped over to the corpse and searched through the pouch at his side for the keys.  Instead of keys, he found several Basram coins, a lock of hair, a small and basic style homing beacon, likely copied from a much more sophisticated zaibach model and a map of Fanelia and its bordering countries.  Taking the map, he ignored the rest and began searching the man’s clothing.

“You’re sure that he’s got the keys on him Fanelia?”  He glanced over at the king, feeling that familiar pit of loathing opening up inside him at the sight of the scrawny royal.   _Kill, Kill, Kill_.  The urge to run him through was almost overpowering and he could faintly hear the dying screams of his slayers eating away at the edges of his mind every moment he spent in the bastard’s presence.  Maybe he could get away with just scarring him a little?  Just a little slice on his ugly face to remember him by?  Maybe kick him into the fire a few times just to watch him burn… that would be lovely, his screams would be a soothing balm to his soul.

“I’m sure.”  Van growled back, his eyes never leaving the albino’s and he watched the fire flare in those cruel eyes as he struggled against growing bloodlust.  The urge to fight was nearly overwhelming for himself as well and he longed to bury a sword through that pale monsters heart in revenge for the hundreds of lives taken before their time.  Still, he was bound while the pale demon was free and until he knew for sure which side Gaddes was on, he wasn’t about to do anything to set the beast off.   

Following his example, Merle hissed softly, her fur standing on end as despite her exhaustion and wounds, she placed herself protectively in front of Van.  Wanting to keep her safe, Van reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, willing her to remain calm.  Mirroring his movements, Gaddes did the same with Dilandau.

“Try around his neck.”  The tall crewman murmured and the albino nodded his head, feeling around the bloodstained collar.  When he smiled in victory, pulling free a somewhat gory key, Gaddes took it from his hand and walked over to Van, not wanting to risk the two enemies getting any closer than they had to.

“What happened to Allen?”  Van hissed softly, still not taking his eyes off of the other.  A look of mutual loathing met his glare though so far, the truce held.

“Allen is fine.  A little stressed all things considered, but fine.”  Gaddes took a moment to wipe the bloody key clean with the corner of his shirt.  The cloth was ruined already, what was a little more blood?

“Then why isn’t he Celena?  What happened?  It was supposed to be permanent!”  It was a struggle to keep his voice down but somehow he managed.  Harder was the task of standing still while Gaddes fiddled with his restraints.  Did it have to take so long to unlock the damn things?  He hated standing here like this while that bastard was armed and only a few feet away.

“There was an attack and Celena was hurt badly.  Dilandau ended up with the body and right now, none of us know how to reverse it.”  Van narrowed his eyes, glaring at the crewman suspiciously.  There was so much that wasn’t being said and it made him wary in a way which hurt his heart.  The crew of the Crusade had been through so much with him over the course of the war.  The idea that they would be hiding something like this from him didn’t sit well.

“Allen should have told Lord Van the instant that freak showed up!”  Merle snarled loudly in Van’s place, voicing what the king so desperately wanted to say.  “How long has he been here?  We were all in danger and Mr. Fancy Britches didn’t bother to warn anyone!?”  Again Gaddes flinched guiltily and didn’t quite bring himself to meet Van’s eyes as the manacles fell to the ground with a heavy thud.  He then crouched down to unlock the ones around his ankles.

Honestly, it was an utter relief to be able to finally move his arms and he began to frantically rub them, desperate to get feeling back in them.  It was hard to ignore the smug smirk on Dilandau’s face as he watched what was likely considered a horrible weakness in the king.  Yes, how dare he have numb arms after being chained up for three days!  Bastard.

The feet were freed in short order and when the tight metal band was removed from his chest, he drew in a deep breath, his first in several days.  Damn that felt good.  He almost wanted to release his wings right there and then, just to feel the wind across his feathers.  Thankfully, the urge was short lived and he stepped back from Gaddes with a quick nod of his head.

“I think that your sword is on one of the horses.  Shall I get it for you?”  Merle asked, eager to please and desperate to arm her king in the face of so many enemies.  Another terse nod sent her scampering with a sudden burst of energy, though she did spare a moment to hiss loudly at Dilandau in passing, ensuring that she was well out of striking range of the sword.

The albino was paying her no attention.  Instead, he’d turned to the assembled mercenaries and tapped his blade against his shoulder idly.

“Soooo, Who wants to be the first to die?”  He asked in a rather jovial tone of voice.  “I haven’t had nearly enough fun yet and I still have this overwhelming urge to tear someone apart.”  Van did his best to pretend not to notice how a sidelong glance was shot in his direction at those words. 

One of the soldiers, bolder than the others dropped to his knees, his hands linking behind his head.

“I surrender!”  The others quickly followed suit, preferring to take the chance on their former captive’s mercy than risk the wilds of Fanelia’s southern jungles.

“I don’t’ accept.”  Dilandau replied casually.  “You people annoyed me and I’m sick of being annoyed.”

“Dilandau, we don’t kill prisoners!”  Gaddes barked out, pulling the youths attention away from the kneeling men and earning himself a look of awe from them for standng up to the infamous captain.  “If they surrender, they’re Van’s responsibility.  You don’t get to touch them unless they try to escape.” 

Dilandau sneered unpleasantly at the second in command, his fingers tightening around the handle of his sword for a moment before he turned back to the prisoners and grinned at them.

“If you run, I’ll give you a ten minute head start!  It’s a good offer seeing as how you’ll likely be executed for kidnapping a king.  He really hates being captured.”  Another sly sidelong look was shot in Van’s direction which he chose to ignore, instead watching the prisoners to see if they’d take the offer.  Not one of them moved.  It seemed that they’d rather risk Van’s mercy than Dilandau’s lust for blood.

“Bah, cowards.”  The zaibach youth spat out, turning on his heel and stalking away to clean his blade on Verriks clothes.  “Like we really need any more prisoners.  Soft hearted barbarians, this is getting ridiculous.”

“I hate to agree with him on anything, but they should die for what they did.”  Merle murmured as she returned, kneeling at Vans feet and holding his sheathed sword up to him.  Her every movement radiated the reverence she felt for her king and he smiled warmly down at her, comforted by her loyalty in the face of all of this strangeness.

As soon as his hands wrapped around his sword, he turned to face Dilandau and found the albino already waiting for him, sword ready and eyes shining with delight.

“Let’s finish this between us.”  The taller youth hissed softly.  “I believe I owe you a few scars.  Fifteen to be exact.  Plus one for myself.” 

Feeling emboldened now that he was properly armed, Van unsheathed his own sword and dropped into an easy stance, ready to attack.  I’m sorry Hitomi, but Dilandau is simply too dangerous to let live.  Allen will understand and forgive me in time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode: Van is sort of annoyed, and rightfully so! Allen plays for time and pieces start being put into play on the chess board. This wont end well for anyone.
> 
> Ahhh Basram, runner up in the "Hey! Let's be evil fucks" contest. Seriously, that energist bomb was badass in all the worst ways. You know that those guys had to be up to something after the war. They were just waaay too crazy to smile and let bygones be bygones after the war.
> 
> Yeah, the Madoushi did a serious fuck job on Dilandau's brain. Not only does he not remember all of the utterly screwed up crap they did to him, but the bits he does remember, he can't talk about without causing a panic attack. What other little tidbits did the sorcerers leave in his brain? How much is mental manipulation and how much is just plain crazy? Either way, being in close quarters with Van isn't going to end well.


	15. Faceoffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is having a good day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. I do own cells, figurines, a little Alseides I like to carry around yelling out Moeru! and copies of the show in pretty much every medium they were released in. I clearly have no life.
> 
> I'm not making money, I'm just messing with the characters and amusing myself. Thank you for reading and feel free to leave comments or Kudos! They make me feel special.

                “Are you kidding me?”  Gaddes yelled loudly as he stepped in-between the two teenagers, clearly at his wits end with the whole day at large.  Spinning around to glare at Dilandau, he strode fearlessly up to the youth, ignoring the sword pointed directly at his heart and met the fiery stare with his own.

                “You promised Allen that you’d stay away from Van.  Remember that?  You know that your actions reflect on him yet here you are about to attack his ally!  Also, I’m responsible for you right now.  It’s bad enough that we’re here in Fanelia, do you really want to add attempted regicide to the list of shit you’ve pulled today?  If you do, then go ahead, fight Van, but remember that it’s my head on the chopping block too!”

                Dilandau actually looked surprised at not only the outburst, but the sheer audacity the man was showing in getting between himself and his target.  No one ever met his eyes like that without showing at least some level of trepidation, but here Gaddes was doing just that.  The albino couldn’t help but feel some small level of grudging respect for such boldness though he continued to glare balefully.

                Despite his simmering rage, he gave his head a slight nod and lowered his sword to a somewhat less aggressive angle but didn’t sheathe it.  That would be a suicidal move so long as Van held steel in his hands.

                Realizing this, Gaddes then spun around, daringly placing his back to Dilandau’s blade as he faced Van.

                “And you!  He just rescued you Your Majesty.  I wouldn’t have even known that you were in trouble, but he tracked those bastards we found back here and helped me take out half the camp so we could pull this off, and you draw your sword on him the instant it’s in your hands?”  Van flinched at the harsh words but didn’t lower his sword an inch.

                “He’s the one who bur-”

                “Yes, his squad burned Fanelia, they also razed Fort Castilo and he personally set Palas on fire but do you see me trying to kill him?  It was war Van.  A horrible bloody senseless war, but it’s over now.  You stopped it because you cared about the lives of people more than you cared about fighting.  Remember?  Dilandau has done nothing but help you tonight and you’re immediately ready to condemn him for it!”

                “I’m willing to leave him alone if he returns to Celena.”  Van refused to budge.  He’d already pushed his tolerance as far as it was willing to go in that regard.  Too many lives had been lost and just looking into that monsters eyes, he knew that it was only a matter of time before more died… well, more than these mercenaries.

                “He can’t do that right now and honestly, right now we need him more than Celena, even Allen see’s that which is why he’s with me rather than in a cell.”

                “He deserves a grave, not a cell.”  Merle shot into the conversation.  Her voice was weak with exhaustion but she still dredged up the strength to favour both Gaddes and Dilandau with a sharp hiss.  “You didn’t see Fanelia burn, I did!  I had to hear the screams of the dying and smell them burning!  I can’t forgive that!”

                “Folken ordered the attack, remember that?  Do you hate Folken for it?”  Gaddes ignored the cat girl, instead focussing his attention on Van seeing as he was the one with the sword and ultimately, the authority to pardon the Dragonslayer.

                Van’s sword wavered slightly as he listened to the words.  Hate still flowed through him like a poison, demanding blood for all of the deaths the monstrous youth had caused but the crewman’s words held their own weight as well and it threatened to tear him apart.

                “Right now, we both have our own larger problems.”  Dilandau finally spoke, his voice cool and professional as he struggled to divorce himself from the near instinctual desire to kill.  All eyes turned to him, two filled with suspicion while the third pair was simply shocked at the self-control he was showing. 

                While he still didn’t sheathe his sword, he allowed it to drop further until its tip nearly brushed the ground and his stance relaxed somewhat.  He was confident that should the king choose to attack, he could respond in time, but there was no need to further exacerbate the situation.

                “What problem could I possibly have that’s bigger than you?”  Van sneered rather impressively, making Dilandau wonder if he’d been practicing the expression in a mirror. 

                “Well, them for starters.”  He replied with a hint of a smirk, motioning with his chin towards the prisoners still kneeling in the dirt like lambs waiting the slaughter.  “General Tsuei is a high ranking Basram official with no ethics whatsoever and the utter belief that Basram should lead Gaea into its next great age.  The man is influential, powerful and rather easily manipulated if you know how to approach him.”  Gaddes shot him a somewhat baffled look and Dilandau shrugged, allowing himself a slight smile.  “What?  Folken and I worked closely together for two years on various military campaigns before the war.  What the hell did you think we talked about, fashion?”  The glare he shot the crewman was almost playful, but it drained away almost instantly when he looked back at Van.

                “The man behind your kidnapping is named Zane Shroden.  He’s … he’s one of the heads of research and development within the Madoushi.  He was Folken’s peer in rank.”  There was visceral disgust in Dilandau’s voice as he named the man though only Gaddes knew him well enough now to recognize the faint tremor to his voice as well.  “If he’s after you…”  This time he couldn’t disguise the shudder that ran through his body and his sword lowered a little more as his eyes flickered with memory.  Gritting his teeth, the youth turned away, taking one of his hands off of his sword to clutch at his head as if in pain. 

                Gaddes took a cautious step forward but stopped when he saw Dilandau’s shoulders tense in warning.  Stepping back carefully, he gave the boy space, shooting Van a cautious look to make sure he wasn’t about to try anything stupid while his enemy was distracted by the voices in his head.

                “He… he’ll tear you apart and you’ll live through every hellish minute of it.  He wants you for something terrible, and he’s using Basram to get it.”  The words were spoken through clenched teeth and sweat beaded the young captain’s brow, warning Gaddes of just how much those words were costing him.

                “So Zaibach is working with Basam now?”  Van stepped forward, his voice sharp and accusing.  “Traitorous bastards, I knew none of you could be trusted!”

                “IT’S NOT ZAIBACH!”  Dilandau screamed, spinning around and glaring at Van with eyes that seemed to glow for a moment like active energist.  “It’s not Zaibach.”  He repeated, bringing both hands to his head and staggering backwards in pain, having to fight for every word he was forcing out.  “It’s the Madoushi!  It’s always the Madoushi!  They won’t stay away!  They’re always calling… always coming for me…Shroden… anyone but him…”

                Gaddes cursed softly under his breath, wanting to step forward and comfort the youth but he knew better than to do that in front of Van.  It would be revealing too much about their growing relationship… if last night hadn’t been some sort of strange one off… and really Dilandau would never forgive the show of weakness.  All he could do was stand back and wait for the madness to run its course.

                “What’s wrong with him?”  Merele asked softly, staring at the suffering teenager as if he were some sort of fascinating insect.

                “He’s… he’s insane.”  Van breathed, his own eyes wide as he watched the mental breakdown taking place.  He’d always known that the Zaibach youth was severely unbalanced… but this…it reminded him of those final disturbing moments of their last battle when he’d begun screaming out for his dead slayers.  A chill went up his spine as he remembered that those boys didn’t rest easily in their graves and had already on one occasion risen up to drag Van into death with them in their captains defense.  Casting a nervous glance around himself, the king took a small step backwards.  Flesh and blood opponents he could handle, but the dead rising up went beyond what he wanted to deal with.  Last time it had taken Hitomi to pull him out of the bleak realm the Dragonslayers had pulled him into.  He didn’t want to test his luck without her by his side.

                “What… what did they do to him?”  He found himself asking Gaddes.  The man’s attention darted between Van and the babbling youth, realizing that there was far more going on here than he’d even begun to suspect.  “Why is he like this?”

                “We’re not quite sure why but we do know that what they did to him was bad… very bad.”  There was a warning tone to the man’s voice advising him not to pry.  “What more do you need to see to know that he’s on our side against them?  Look what just warning you did, but he still did it.  They’re his enemies even more than they are yours Van, and right now, they want you both.”

                Van studied Gaddes for a long moment, weighing every word against what he’d just seen and what he knew about both men.  Dilandau might be many things, but he never bothered to lie and certainly didn’t have the temperament to pull off dramatics like this if they weren’t real.  Gaddes was loud, brash and generally rather honest.  He’d risked his life without qualm or complaint for Van during the war and was a good friend.  He loved Allen like a brother and would never allow a threat to the knight to wander around freely like this.

                Grudgingly, he straightened up and sheathed his sword, giving the crewman a nod of his head.

                “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”  He stated, drawing on all of his authority as king of the land they were currently standing on.  “This is a clear danger to my kingdom and people and I will not rest until it’s stopped.”

                “That’s great!”  Gaddes grinned at him then paused and glanced back at Dilandau who seemed to be slowly winning his mental battle.  “You do mean the Madoushi and Basram right?  Not him?”

                “For the moment, though I don’t trust him at all.  I’m not letting that bastard out of my sight until Celena is back permanently or he’s dead.  He’s too much of a risk, especially like this.”

                “If it helps, he’s usually not like this.”  The crewman murmured.  “I think… it’s just when those freaks get brought up that he gets all worked up.”  Deciding that Dilandau had finally calmed enough for him to approach, he walked over to the youth and gently touched his shoulder.  Van watched as Dilandau seemed to lean into the touch, murmuring something softly to the darker man and receiving an equally quiet reply.

                “I don’t like this Lord Van.”  Merle murmured, watching the two men with open suspicion.  “What if he’s tricked Allen and his crew?  What if he’s planning something horrible again?”

                “Then we stop him.  But until then they’re right, we have a bigger enemy to fight.”  Which reminded him…  Turning, he looked back at the prisoners and narrowed his eyes.  He couldn’t kill them, not after they’d surrendered.  There was no way he was going to sink down to Dilandau’s level even if it was by far the easier option.  That left either taking them with him, or releasing them to take their chances in the wilds.

                Keeping them prisoner wasn’t a good option.  It meant a lot of energy spent keeping an eye on them.  Attention he’d much rather be focusing on another individual.  Also there was the small fact that kidnapping a king was a death sentence itself, so keeping these men alive was really a wasted effort, especially when through the trip, they’d demonstrated ample times that they weren’t worthy of being called human beings.  If their positions were reversed, the king had no doubt that they’d have laughed at his surrender and run him through.  Gods knew what they’d have done to Merle.

                “You lot.”  He glared at the prisoners coldly.  “You have a choice.  Fall on your blades now and accept an honorable death, or take your chances in the jungle.  The gods will decide your fate… and the dragons.”  There was no doubt that the anger and violence in the hearts of these mercenaries would call every dragon in Fanelia to them soon enough.  It was honestly a miracle that the troupe hadn’t been attacked yet.

                “Do… do we get our swords?”  The first one who’d surrendered asked boldly, earning a cold smile from Van as he remembered their cruel laughter as they’d hurt Merle and their vile intentions. 

                “You get your daggers.”  He stated without any feeling, raising his sword at them.  “Decide your fate now and get out of my sight or I’ll let Dilandau have his way and chase you all down for fun.”  It sickened him inside to say that, but he knew it would keep any of the men from trying to double back and ambush them.  Dammit if he was going to be forced to travel with a monster, he was going to use it to his advantage.  It seemed that in the end, he wasn’t quite so different from Folken after all.

                The prisoners took one long look at Van, then one glance at Dilandau who seemed to have gathered himself back together and was quietly growling something at Gaddes, not paying attention to the rest of them.  The choice was obvious and as one, they all bolted into the forest.  Better a slim chance at life than none at all.

                “What the hell?!”  Dilandau snarled, noticing the men fleeing in all directions.  Raising his sword, he prepared to give chase but Van held up his hand and calmly met the other youth’s eyes.

                “Let them go.  They’ll be dead soon enough.  We don’t have time to worry about keeping them alive for an execution.”

                For a moment, it looked like Dilandau was going to contradict him rather violently, but instead; he glanced at the still dark forest and smirked to himself before looking back at Van.

                “It seems that Folken’s legacy lives on.  You sounded just like him for a moment.”

                “Thank you.”

                “It wasn’t a compliment.”

                “Gentlemen, let’s just get back to the ship.  I hurt; I need a bath and a decent meal.  I haven’t eaten all day you know.”

                “You could still stand to lose a few pounds…that armour isn’t exactly going to grow for you.”

                “Shut up brat.”  Gaddes said the insult with a weary sort of warmth as he took the lead, heading back into the jungle and walking with the true confidence of a man who knew exactly where they were going.

“Hey, Fanelian!”  Dilandau called out from where he stood unmoving, finally sheathing his sword with a smirk.   Both men spun around to look at him and after a moment, Gaddes smiled somewhat apologetically at Van. 

“Er… he means me… sorry your Majesty.”  His voice was low and polite before he turned and yelled loudly at the albino.  “What is it brat?!”  The brat in question simply crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back slightly, putting his weight on his heels and radiating amusement.

“Where exactly are you going?  The ship is that way.”  A pale hand motioned in a different direction and with an amused chuckle, the Dragonslayer began to walk, fully expecting the others to follow or be lost in the jungle forever.

“Arrogant little son of a…Don’t you go wandering off alone.  You’ll set something important on fire and I’ll be the one the Boss gets angry at!  Hey!  I said to wait up! DAMMIT!”  Gaddes ran into the jungle after the youth, leaving Van and Merle to look at each other in utter confusion.  Neither of them understood this strange companionable familiarity that had appeared between the two former enemies, but neither could deny that Gaddes had successfully stayed Dilandau’s sword, something not even Folken had always succeeded at.  “OW! Fucking branch!  I HATE nature!! Why are there so many trees!?”

“Watch your head.”’ 

“Should we go after them?”  Merle asked, unsure when exactly the rules for her world had changed, but determined to not let that stop her from faithfully following Van.  The young king looked down at her, then at the faint path left by the two men.  Dragon and mercenary filled jungle, or follow a madman to destination unknown… It was just like old times all over again.

“We follow.  I’m not letting him out of my sight.”  Van grumbled, still glaring at their path.  “Can you walk?”  He glanced down at Merle and saw that she was already swaying on her feet, her adrenaline from before having finally burned out, leaving her in worse shape than before.  She managed two steps towards him before her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she fell over with an impressive thud.

At least they were easy to follow.  Gaddes kept up a constant monologue of complaints against the foliage, the wildlife and the pace their less than considerate guide was setting for them all.  Van was rather sure that it was because he was following and Dilandau was more than petty enough to make his life as miserable as possible by taking the roughest paths over the worst terrain, fully aware that he was carrying Merle. 

During one painfully short break, he noticed his nemesis picking various plants and tucking them into a pocket on his long jacket… was that one of Drydens?  Frowning, Van tried to see them clearly enough to identify and noticing his sudden alertness, Gaddes followed his gaze and visibly paled.

“Er… you might want to make sure your meals never leave your sight over the next few days.”  The older man cautioned quietly.  “The kid… he likes playing with some pretty disturbing flowers.  They won’t kill you, but they’ll likely make you wish you were dead.  Just sayin.”    There was a story behind that which Van would love to hear, but he frowned as he noticed the thick waxy leaves being picked.

“Those aren’t toxic.  That’s a plant known for its oily secretions.  It’s perfectly safe.  Folken and I used to crush them and cover ourselves in its juice then slide across the floors of the palace when we were little.”  Van coloured slightly at the memory.  “It was a lot of fun but I don’t exactly see Dilandau using it for that.  What’s he want it for?” 

Gaddes seemed to think for a long moment then his eyes widened and he turned a rather bright shade of red and coughed several times.

“No clue, he gets strange ideas sometimes.  If it’s not toxic then don’t worry.  But… still check your food… you know… just in case.”    Van snorted inelegantly and gave the pale youth a contemptuous glare.

“Don’t worry.  I know all about plants and their properties.  If he tried anything, I’ll know.”

“Oh good… at least one of us will.”  The older man couldn’t quite resist grumbling under his breath before flashing the king a wide smile and heading over to the Zaibach captain and speaking softly to him again.  Van couldn’t hear what was said, but he did hear Gaddes’ warm laugh over something Dilandau grumbled before calling their break to a close and resuming their trek to the ship.   

 

               

 

                The sun was high overhead when they came into view of the Crusade.  Dilandau had long ago donned his goggles and pulled his coats hood up; earning an odd look from Van though the king didn’t have the breath or energy to comment on the strange accessories.  It was a good decision on his part.  Bad enough that he’d seen Dilandau have a mental breakdown, he didn’t want to add to it by explaining his problems with bright sunlight.  Damn how he longed for the comfortingly overcast skies of Zaibach.  The damn sun was highly overrated as far as he was concerned.

                Kio was on guard duty when they approached.  He was perched on top of the Crusade, monitoring the treeline for any sign of movement.  Both Gaddes and Dilandau were surprised to hear the crewman let out a happy whoop when he saw them and yelled for them to wait a moment while he raced inside to quickly lower the personnel lift so they could board.  In his hurry, he hadn’t noticed their two companions exit the forest several slow and pained paces behind them.

                The truce between the two teenagers lasted until they entered the ship.  The instant the lift came to a stop in the hangar, Dilandau began moving, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the hated king but he was brought up short by an indignant yell.

                “What the Hell is that doing here!?”  Swearing softly, he realized that his Alseides had likely become uncovered in the rough landing and no one had bothered to fix it.

                “Yeah… that… that’s part of the long and complicated story that the Boss will be happy to fill you in on when we get to Astoria.”  Gaddes stated, sounding distinctly like he’d rather be somewhere else.  Preferably on another continent from the irate king.

                “I knew you couldn’t be trusted!”  That was aimed at Dilandau and he slowly turned around to face his enemy, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword in silent warning.  This was his turf now… more or less, and he wasn’t going to take any crap from the demon who’d murdered everyone he’d ever cared about.

                “Gaddes, Kid!  You’re back- oh shit.”  Kio’s wide grin quickly faded as he saw the angry king, unconscious cat girl still draped over his shoulders.  “How the… oh Jeture tell me you didn’t kill the cat.”  The large man looked at Dilandau pleadingly.  All the Dragonslayer could do was give the man a look of utter disgust and shake his head.

                “I saved the hairballs life and this is the thanks I get.  This is why I fucking hate heroics.”  He snarled softly.  “I need some vino.  I’ll be in the mess.  Let me know when you want to challenge me to a formal duel Your Majesty.”  He sneered back at the king.  “Until then, stay the hell out of my way!”

                Gaddes bit back a sigh as he watched the youth stomp out of the hangar, slamming the door behind him with impressive force before anyone could reprimand him for his behavior in front of royalty. 

                “Well… that could have gone… better.”  Kio murmured to himself before glancing over to Gaddes, awaiting an explanation.  “So… you found the one person in Gaea that we were trying like hell to avoid.  Do we have you or the kid to thank for that?”  Gaddes didn’t bother answering.  Instead he simply narrowed his eyes at the obviousness of the answer.  “Right… crash in the middle of nowhere and find Van Fanel.  At least the kid’s consistent.”   Somehow the pilot dredged up an apologetic grin, watching the king who was glaring murderously at the sedentary Alseides.  “Allen isn’t going to be happy about this.”

                Gaddes couldn’t help but wince at just how unhappy the boss would be about a great many things that had happened in Fanelia, but so long as the kid didn’t tell him, their secret would stay safe… as would both of Gaddes’ heads.

                “So what happened, we were expecting you back hours ago?”  Kio nudged his crewmate, curious to hear the story and more than a little surprised that the two enemies had been in the same room without blood or fire being thrown about… granted, there was still time for both.

                “We got attacked by some goons and got concerned when they’d mentioned prisoners.  After we killed them, we followed their trail back to their camp and found the king.”

                “And?  How in Jeture’s name did you get those two to get along long enough for you to get back here?  How is one of them not dead?”  Gaddes rubbed his temples where a rather nasty tension headache had been brewing for the past three hours.  There was only so long a person could stay hyper aware, waiting for an outbreak of violence before their body started to give out.

                “Let’s call it a miracle and leave it at that.  Merle needs medical attention.  She’s badly dehydrated and pretty beat up… no the kid didn’t do it.”  He added before the obvious question could be asked.  “Speaking of, how’s your head?  Are you good to fly?”

                “I’d better be.”  Kio chuckled, rubbing his skull.  “I don’t think any of us trust the kid’s landings.  I got off lucky with just a bit of a headache.  I’ll see what I can do for the girl, but honestly at the moment, the kid’s our best medic on board and I don’t think I trust him with her.”  Gaddes couldn’t argue that.  It was one thing to tell him to tolerate the presence of his enemies quite another to ask him to see to their good health.  He had a sudden horrible vision of the brat trying out some of his oh so fun surprise filled plants on the poor girl.  Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well at all.

                “See what you can do, I’m going to make sure the kid doesn’t set anything on fire or stab anyone while he’s sulking.  Can you get some water into them?  Use the Boss’ cabin until I can get another room set up.  Even he can’t complain about us lending it to royalty.”  That last statement was a bald faced lie and both men knew it, but it was better than putting either of their guests in the crew cabins.  While Kio and Gaddes’ room might be acceptable, chances were high that the kid would end up going there and that was just asking for more trouble.  At least the Boss could be reasoned with.

                “Yeah, I’ll make them comfortable.   You keep us safe from retaliation.”  Flashing Kio a grateful smile and patting him carefully on the back, Gaddes headed to the mess before checking his cabin, hoping to possibly head the kid off before he grabbed too many bottles of alcohol.  They didn’t need him drunk and armed while Van was on board.

                Surprisingly, Dilandau was still there, digging through some of the cupboards for something to eat.  An open bottle of vino was already in his hand and it looked like he’d already had a few drinks from it judging by the liquid level.

                “You knew he was at the camp didn’t you.”  Gaddes asked once he closed the door behind himself, granting them some small measure of privacy.  The kid didn’t bother to turn around and face him.  Instead, he raised the bottle to his lips and took another deep pull from the bottle.  It was odd seeing him drink like that.  While the brat had an unhealthy obsession with the drink, he always used a glass without fail.  “Dilandau?” 

                “Of course I knew.”  The voice was low, holding a distinct warning tone and the fingers wrapped around the bottles neck gripped it tightly as if trying to strangle the glass.

                “So why save him if you knew?  If you hadn’t said anything, he’d be on his way to being a lab rat without ever knowing you were back.”  Gaddes had to admit that he was more than a little confused on this point.  Sure, maybe the kid had wanted to see Van suffer at the hands of those mercenaries and maybe he’d lost himself to the sudden impulse to pick a fight with an old foe and forgotten his original goal… and while he was being delusional, maybe he could imagine the kid putting on a dress and singing love songs.  Nothing pulled the Dragonslayer’s attention away from the object of his obsession.

                “I… I don’t know why I did it.”  Dilandau’s voice was so soft that at first Gaddes wasn’t even sure he’d heard the words.  “I want him dead so badly, you can’t even begin to imagine how much.”  The bottle was raised to his lips again and another long swallow halved the amount of wine in record time.  “He killed them all… murdered them in front of me… and what do I do?  I save his fucking life.”  Broken laughter echoed behind his words and Gaddes stepped forward to gently stroke his fingers through that fine silver hair. 

                For a moment, the caress was tolerated, even welcomed, then Dilandau jerked away, giving the older man a cold look of warning.

                “We’re on board ship and you’re my direct superior.”  He growled.  “Mind yourself.”  The words hurt, especially after the openness they’d shared between them but Gaddes watched how those pale hands trembled as he raised the bottle once again and realized what the kid was doing.  With Van on board calling up memories of horrors he was still struggling to come to terms with, he was on the defensive and trying to block any emotions that might weaken him.  It wasn’t healthy at all as far as coping mechanisms went, nor was the excessive drinking and that bottle was pretty much done already.  Noticing this, Dilandau reached over and grabbed a second from its shelf, clearly intending to drown his pain rather than face it.

                “Maybe I was just trying to balance things… I stole the Crusade for my own agenda, so I guided you to Van so you could do your rescue and not look at me with disappointment in your eyes.”  He shrugged, still not looking at the older man.  “Maybe I just wanted to punish myself.”  Or maybe this was yet another attempt at suicide, a more elaborate attempt than before, but still just as effective.  Gaddes winced at that idea, hoping that he was wrong.  While the kid wasn’t well, he’d been doing much better over the last few days and seemed to be settling into the crew comfortably.

                “I’m not disappointed in you Dilandau.”  He reached out and took the youth by his shoulders, forcing him to turn around and actually look him in the eye.  “Honestly, while I’m not thrilled with what you did, I have to admit that I had the time of my life and whatever your reasons, you did a good thing last night.”

                “Van’s going to order my death.”  It wasn’t said with any inflection at all, merely a statement of fact.  “It will crush Schezar to lose his little sister like that.”  There was a flicker of malice in the depths of his eyes and Dilandau flashed him a sweetly disarming smile before popping the cork from his newest bottle and taking another drink.  “Do you think he’ll have me drawn and quartered or simply hung?  Maybe he’ll have me burned.  You know, for the irony.  I’ve committed so many crimes against Fanelia that it’s hard to decide which one will take precedence.  Which do you think was worse?  Burning Fanelia or the attempted regicide?  Both were so much fun.”

                “Stop it.”  Gaddes growled, taking the bottle from Dilandau’s hands and placing it on the table, never taking his eyes off of the youth.  “You’re not going to be killed.  Allen won’t allow it and neither will I, so stop trying to make it happen.  We’re going to fight for you whether you want it or not.  Haven’t you realized that yet?”

                “You don’t understand!”  Dilandau snapped viciously, pulling himself away and reaching for the bottle again.  “I can’t fight Shroden!  I can’t do anything against him!”  The bottle was flung against the wall hard enough to shatter, spraying vino in all directions.  “He… dammit.”  Turning away, he began to pace the room nervously.  “Folken couldn’t stop him and neither can you.  Not even Van deserves what that monster will do to him.  It’s better if you just let me kill the little bastard now and save him a lifetime of suffering.”

                “He’s that bad?”  Dilandau stopped his pacing and looked over at Gaddes with eyes full of untold suffering.

                “Every time there’s a hole in my memories, he’s there.”  Silvery lashes closed, hiding those fearful eyes.  “He’s always there.”

                Leaning forward, Gaddes cupped Dilandau’s chin with his hand and pulled him into a gentle kiss.  At first he met with resistance, the albino’s body was stiff and unresponsive though he didn’t pull away.  After a moment, he moaned softly and leaned into the kiss, his lips parting; allowing Gaddes to taste the vino he’d drunk as well as the hint of flames that continuously seemed to be such an integral part of him.  As always, it was an intoxicating combination that he couldn’t get enough of and he deepened it, hungrily devouring the teenager’s grief and fear as he wrapped strong arms around that slender deadly body.

                “I’ll protect you.  I give you my word that so long as I draw breath, I’ll be there for you.”  In response to his words, those amazing lips seized his, making his head spin in pleasure and suddenly all the problems of the past few hours didn’t quite seem to matter as much. 

He could feel Dilandau’s willingness and knew that if he wanted, the youth would let him take him right there on the mess hall table.  Wouldn’t that make mealtime interesting with the rest of the crew.  It was almost too powerful a temptation, feeling that now eager body pressed tightly against his, begging him to drive away the pain with pleasure.  To deny passion such as this had to be a crime, especially when the brat could kiss like a damn god!  His fingers continued to stroke that silken soft hair, wanting nothing more than to never stop this perfect moment, but reluctantly he drew away, a slight smile on his lips.  The smile only grew when he saw the desire shining in the silver youth’s eyes, his earlier torment forgotten.

                “Someone will walk in.  We need to behave for now, but once we’re in the air, everyone will be busy and we can pick up where we left off.  If you’re interested that is.”  That earned him a rather eager smile as Dilandau nodded his head.  “Besides, I’m interested in those plants you were picking.  Didn’t like the cooking oil?”

                “Oh it was fine, but Riom would notice it running out rather quickly, and really, the plants are much better, just wait and see.”  That earned him a raised eyebrow… among other body parts and suddenly Gaddes really didn’t want to wait for them to be in the air to find out.  Humming softly, he ran his hands over that delicious lithe body, admiring the wonderfully sharp angles and hard muscles.  So different from all the women he’d enjoyed, but perfect nonetheless.  Cupping the youth’s beautifully rounded rump in his hands, he pulled him close, kissing teasingly along his neck, enjoying the soft gasps of encouragement he heard.

                “Suddenly waiting doesn’t seem like much fun.”  He found himself murmuring, nibbling at a delightfully sensitive spot below Dilandau’s ear and enjoying the soft moans he made and the way he wriggled enticingly against the older man.

                “Y…you’re the one worried about… about the crew knowing.”  The voice was perfectly strained with need and fingernails traced lines of heat down his back, but Gaddes realized that they couldn’t cross that line, not here.  Honestly, the kid was too perceptive for his own good and the mention of being discovered cooled the darker man’s ardour enough for him to reluctantly pull away.

                “You’re right… but I’ll make it up to you later.”  He smiled and kissed those addictive lips lightly; hating himself for his self-control but all too aware of the price should they be caught in such a compromising position.  “Believe me.  I’ll make it up to you.”

                Dilandau grumbled softly, the look of disappointment on his face was nothing short of adorable at least as far as Gaddes was concerned.  Others might easily call it homicidal but their opinions hardly counted at this moment.

                “I hate waiting, so you’d better make it spectacular.”  The albino warned, a hint of a smile edging his lips, taking the bite out of his words.  “I expect to not be able to move for hours afterwards.”  Another playful kiss was bestowed onto his lips, the tip of a pale pink tongue memorizing their delicate contours slowly, threatening to turn it into something much more sensual.  Damn the kid was insatiable!  “Besides,” Dilandau continued.  “I owe you for Verrik.  That was a great throw by the way.  I love a man who knows how to use his blade.”  Yes, only the brat could turn murder into verbal foreplay.  Sadly, it was working and Gaddes had to will his body to behave.

                “Motivation goes a long way.”  Two could play at that game.

                “Does it now?  We’ll have to test that theory out later.”  Dilandau leaned in and stole a final kiss before stepping back quickly and picked up a third bottle from the rack.  “I’m going to check on Katz’ progress with the propeller, you should see about cleaning up the mess in here.  We mustn’t have the dear little king think that we live like pigs.”    He laughed as Gaddes cursed him loudly, closing the door on the second in command, muffling the rather vulgar insults towards his parentage.

*************************

 

  
                Allen was pacing again but every time he stopped, he just started up again a few moments later.  He didn’t like having Dilandau out of his sight and beyond reach.  There were too many things that could go wrong, and not just slightly wrong… countries on fire wrong.  Yes, Gaddes was with him and he trusted his friend with his life, but Dilandau had proven several times to be more than adept at convincing the older man to take part in his irrational schemes.

                Admit it Schezar, you’re upset over the party.  He couldn’t help but grumble to himself as he stalked back and forth across the reeve’s office, completely ignoring the paperwork littering the surface of the desk.  He’d been an idiot, allowing the men to convince him to have some women over for drinks.  They’d promised to stay away from the hangar, sworn on their lives.  Allen should have known better, his crew would naturally want to include their little mascot in the festivities despite the danger involved.  They all seemed bound and determined to get Dilandau to act like a normal kid rather than the weapon he was made to be and they tended to forget that he didn’t always react the way they expected.

                Still, he couldn’t blame them; he was the leader, the older sibling.  Dilandau was his responsibility and he’d failed his little brother.  Lured away by soft words and sweet flesh, he’d naturally assumed that he could leave everyone unsupervised for an hour or two while he finally relieved some of the pressure that had been building up inside him.  In retaliation, Dilandau had kissed Gaddes, in front of everyone.  Just thinking about that infuriated the knight and he wasn’t sure who he was angrier with, Dilandau for indulging in more of his twisted games, or himself for actually feeling jealous about it.

                It’s not like he wanted to renew their incestuous relationship again, the very idea of that made his skin crawl unpleasantly.  What upset him as the closeness growing between the two men, the friendship that he wanted with his brother was being shared with another.  Yes, they still had their moments… but it seemed to always be after some violent conflict and he was sick of drawing steel on the stubborn youth.

                “Boss?”  There was a gentle knock on the edge of the door and Allen looked up to see Reeden standing there, looking somewhat unsure as to whether this was a good time to interrupt or not.  Forcing himself to look less frustrated with the world, Allen motioned his crewman in and leaned against his desk in a rather informal fashion.

                “What is it?”  The men usually didn’t bother him unless it was something important and they’d all been walking on eggshells around him since the party the night before. 

                “Well, that messenger? The sick one?”  Allen nodded his head, hoping that the man hadn’t been bothering anyone.  Why couldn’t the fool simply stay in bed or locked in the garderobe like an intelligent human being?  “Well, we got a message from Fort Benner, some of their people  found him on the side of the road early this morning in pretty rough shape.  They said he was raving pretty badly and was seriously sick, but he’d mentioned your name a few times and had a Royal Message for you in his bag.”  Allen stood up straight, his heart suddenly slamming against his ribs.  Fort Benner was three hours hard riding from here!  How in Jeture’s name had a man that sick travelled that far?  More importantly why?

                “Could he have learned something?”  Blue eyes narrowed, studying the tanned crewman.  He understood men like Palos.  If he’d learned anything damaging towards Allen’s reputation, he’d have quickly stooped to blackmail or coercion to earn himself much coveted court favour.  The only reason he would have run, risking, life, limb was if he was convinced that he would either die, or the rewards would be greater than anything Allen could offer.  There was only one thing he could think of that could spur the foolish messenger to such extremes.  “He knows… somehow, he knows.”

                “That’s what I figure.  Fort Benner is sending him here on a cart with some guards to make sure he delivers his message.  We got lucky and they seem to think that he was racing like that to deliver something urgent and he hasn’t reached us yet.  Otherwise, they’d keep him there until he was well enough to travel.  There was a rather lengthy postscript from Sir Matheius stating that the messenger deserves our best care and that if we have to head out quickly to deal with an emergency, to bring him back to the Fort where he’ll receive proper treatment.”

                “Lovely, even while sick the man is a thorn in my side.”  Allen muttered to himself and tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “When are they expected to arrive?”  The Crusade wasn’t expected until this evening, with luck, Dilandau would have been picky with his energist and made them run a little late.

                “The note said to expect them around noon.  They’re travelling quickly due to the perceived emergency.”  That didn’t give them much time to prepare.

                “Warn the men that we’re about to have some company.  I want Palos and his escort to be brought to the inn the instant they arrive.  Keep the villagers and the innkeeper away just in case anyone mentions seeing him before.  I will be notified the instant they arrive so I can take the damn message.  We can’t appear too unconcerned regarding its contents.”  Dammit, he’d hoped to have another few days to figure out what was going on.  “And for Jeture’s sake, keep them well away from the jail.  If any of the cart guards ask what is going on, simply say it’s a mission for the King and leave it at that.  I don’t’ want anyone saying anything more than they have already.”

                Reeden flinched at the thinly veiled accusation and nodded his head, not quite meeting his leader’s eyes.  While he was by no means brilliant, he and the rest of the crew had quickly deduced that somehow the real story of what was going on had gotten back to the messenger.  Maybe one of the girls had recognized the kid, or something had been overheard.  Either way, it likely came back to one of them being the leak, however unintentional.

                “I’ll take care of it for you Boss.”  Reeden snapped the knight a salute and slipped out of the room, leaving the Allen to his thoughts and plans.

 

               

                Within two hours, word of the escorted cart arriving reached Allen and he took a deep breath before striding out into the town square, affecting a look of concern for both the messenger and the ill tidings he most likely brought with him.  Unlike most of his crew, he’d long ago learned how to properly school his features and knew that he would be convincing enough for his audience.

                Their initial path bringing them to the village had resulted in them bunking at Fort Benner for two nights, so Allen was able to recognize the four guards flanking the carriage and smile at them with comfortable familiarity.  In return, they nodded their heads respectful of his rank, looking relieved to have fulfilled their duties.

                “Sir Allen, a pleasure to see you well.  I’m afraid we don’t come bearing good news.”  The speaker was Sir Tristen, a young knight who took himself far too seriously for one barely into his twenty first year, but wars will do that to a man.  “We found this messenger on an early patrol.  He bears a message from the Crown for you and was quite frantic whenever your name was mentioned.  He’s… not well.”

                “Betrayed… Sir Allen… no… no… Zaibach is coming…”  Palos murmured softly from his bed of soft straw on the bottom of the cart.  A quick look told that the messenger was unconscious and feverish, the strong odour of his sickness surrounding him in a thick cloud.

                “He’s been babbling along those lines since we found him Sir.  I’m not sure what to make of it.”

                “What happened to him?  Was he attacked?”  Concern filled the blonde knight’s face though he was careful not to overplay it.  There were many hazards on the roads these days.

                “Our medic believes that it’s poisoning, likely something he ate, but it’s been exacerbated badly by stress and dehydration.  We got him cleaned up and fit to be moved, but as you can see, he’s still delirious and running a fever.  Ordinarily we wouldn’t have moved him, but he’s clearly in a hurry and…well… it’s a Royal Missive.”

                “I see.  You have the message?”  Allen adopted a stern look of resolve on his face and extended his hand, fully expecting to receive the scroll in question.  He wasn’t disappointed as the lower ranked knight pulled a blue satchel from the cart and withdrew a woefully familiar scroll case.  “I trust we can dispense with the formalities in its changing of hands considering the circumstances.”  He added, earning a wan smile from Sir Tristen.

                The finely carved wood felt heavy in his hands and while he would have preferred to read it in private, he knew that the guards were expecting him to be rather worried about its contents.  Instead of waiting, he opened the end of the case and withdrew the tightly folded scroll of snowy white vellum.  It felt like silk in his hands, warm and delicate to the touch.  The Royal seal was stamped on it in golden wax but it parted easily beneath his dagger, allowing the message to unroll.

                The message was from Dryden, the Heir Apparent and while it was filled with concern there was the distinct tone warning that he knew something was up and wanted answers immediately.  Nothing was said directly, not even Dryden would foolishly trust that no one would dare to steal and read a Royal Missive.  Instead he referred to a concern regarding “estranged family members” and a suggestion to perhaps visit old friends or return to Palas to help deal with his problems.

                It was hard to resist crushing the delicate scroll in his hands.  He knew.  Dammit, how many people knew what was going on when Allen himself was still working it all out?  How many spies did the damn heir have?  More importantly, was he offering to help him with his newest family member?  Or demanding that justice be served?  The knight was rather sure he’d been intentionally vague on that part to ensure cooperation.

                “Is everything alright Sir Allen?”  Sir Tristen asked, likely noting how pale the other knight had grown.  Vaguely Allen nodded his head and offered a faint smile.

                “Yes, yes of course.  I’m afraid that whatever sickness struck this messenger confused him badly and made him rather paranoid.  While the message is important, it’s a personal issue and hardly worth the risk of his life.”  Allen made sure to give Palos’ moaning form a look of mild concern laced with disapproval.  “He must be new to the position.  You’ve seen how the new messengers always seem to believe that every scroll is a matter of life and death.  Hopefully this one has learned his lesson.”  Sir Tristen nodded his head, still looking somewhat unsure.

                “Yes, I’ve seen that often enough… but he was babbling about Zaibach, and surprise attacks… he mentioned Captain Albatou.”

                “If he’d run into that menace, I hardly think he’d be here to tell the tale.”  Allen glanced back down at the sleeping man, silently cursing his existence.  “Most likely he was suffering from memories of the war.  I’ll have my men run extra patrols to make sure.  There were some bandits in the area recently, but we dealt with them quickly enough.  He might have had a brush with a straggler.  Some wore remnants of Zaibach armour.  In his delusional state, it would be easy to make the connection.”

                The other knight stiffened at that and looked around with concern on his face.  Off to the side, the other three outriders seemed to perk up, eager for a fight.

                “Do you think that they’ll be a danger to the outlying villages?”

                “No, though I would suggest keeping your eyes open just in case.  The group we dealt with appeared to be the main camp.  They fell easily enough thankfully and we suffered no losses on our end.  They weren’t soldiers, simply bandits scavenging off of old battlefields.  Still, they could be a danger to travellers on the road.  If you hear of any activity, you’ll let us know? 

                “Of course!  I’ll pass the message onto Sir Matheius myself.”  Allen finally allowed himself to smile and motioned for several nearby crewmembers to come over.

                “Marcus, Pike, help this messenger to a room and see that he’s attended to.  The man risked his life to bring me this message and I’d see him properly rewarded.  Sir Tristan, would your men like a meal before returning to the Fort?  I’m sure it would be no problem to provide you for your services.”  The outriders all smiled at the offer as Tristen agreed to the offer.

                “Thank you for your generosity.  We’ll eat and be off.  I don’t want to be out on the roads after dark if we can help it and I’d rather get back to the Fort as soon as possible to pass on the warning.”  Allen let himself heave an internal sigh of relief at this statement and vowed to get the men back on the road as soon as possible.  The last thing he needed was for them to see the Crusade arrive.  There would be more ensuing questions that he honestly didn’t want to answer.

 

************

 

 Dark shadows twisted around him as the flames rose up, sucking the air out of his lungs.  The ground shook all around him as the metal giants dueled in the market, setting the city on fire.  Maniacal cackles split the air, turning a nightmare into Hell itself as the heat intensified a hundred fold.  He could feel his hair burning, his skin crisping.  When he drew in breath to scream, the fire poured into his lungs, cooking him from the inside out.  The white hot incandescent pain was intense and his tears ate deep trails into his cheeks like acid, scoring him down to his blackening bones.

_Tell us what you know and the flames will stop._ He’d never felt pain this intense, it devoured him one bite at a time, melting his vitals, charring bones to ash and still he tried to scream.  _Let us save you.  We are here to help you._

Why was he hurting?  How could anything feel this agonizing and not kill him?  He’d do anything to make it stop, to give himself just one moments reprieve from the burning.  _We can make the flames stop.  Simply tell us what we wish to know and it will all be over._ The voice was more felt than heard but it resonated into his mind, its soothing tones causing the flames to dim just enough to allow cognitive thought to flicker back into being. 

“Traitor.”  He murmured, trying to pull away from the flames.  He could see glimpses of the great guymelef Scheherazade through the flames, squaring off against a monstrous red machine that dripped with blood.   “He lied… traitor… working with the demon, let him burn the city.”  The flames swirled around him, pulling back slightly, just enough so that he’d stop burning, but their heat continued to lick at his flesh in silent warning should he stop speaking.   “In it together… all a plot… brothers…”  It hurt to speak, the flames had eaten away at his throat, but the words were still recognizable. 

“Brothers… Sir Allen, Captain Albatou… traitor … hiding him, protecting…”  _You’ve seen the captain?  Tell us the truth of the flames will return._ No! Anything but that!  He cringed away from the growing heat, seeing the dreaded red Zaibach guymelef approaching, fire licking at its metal hull like a lover.

“Keep him away!  He’s death!  He’ll kill me!  Kill us all!”  _Did you see Captain Albatou?_ The voice grew impatient and he knew that if he didn’t answer, it would leave him to die in the fire.  “I didn’t see him… never seen him… heard… hiding with Sir Allen’s crew.  Stop him.  Please stop him!  Protect Astoria, be a hero!”  He reached out for that voice, willing to beg and grovel if it would only save him from the flames.  “Please don’t let him get me!  He’ll burn me alive!”  Those heavy footfalls were growing closer and he could see movement above the flames.  Any moment now the red guymelef would see him and the fire would devour him alive.

“Please save me!”  _We’ll save you.  We’ll protect you and destroy the beast and the traitor, but you must do something for us.  “_ Anything!  Please!  It burns!”  He spun around, trying to see the faces of his saviors but there was only the fire and that terrible looming shadow.  _Follow them.  Do not let them leave you.  Watch them. Study them so that you will be able to report to your king the full level of their treachery.  You’ll be the hero you always dreamed you could be.  You’ll save Astoria… you’ll save Gaea._ Yes!  A hero!  But to become a hero, he’d have to face them… follow them… could he do that?  No!  The monster would know.  It would look into his soul with its burning eyes and see him for what he was.  _No, the beast will not.  This gem will protect you.  Keep it with you always.  Never leave it behind and never let the beast see it._

The flames parted and on the ground he saw a beautiful deep purple stone which glimmered in the light of the fire.  When he reached down to pick it up, it felt cold in his hands, so blessedly cold.  Yes!  This could save him.  This would protect him from the monsters flames.

_We will call upon you to act one day.  That is our price for protection and your heroic legend.  Do not fail us.  Gaea depends on you._

“Gaea depends on me.”  Palos murmured, nodding his head as the flames melted away into darkness, taking the looming bloody guymelef with them and leaving him in peace.  “I will save us all.”   

“Shhh, easy now lad, you’ve had a long day.  Relax and let ol’Gran take care of you.”  Hands, wrinkled and dry as old parchment patted Palos gently on the shoulder as he opened his eyes and blearily looked around the room. There was no sign of fire or nightmarish monsters, just the stooped figure of an old and wrinkled woman who watched him with too bright eyes and a toothless smile. 

“Where… where am I?”  The room looked vaguely familiar and it gave him an uneasy feeling in his guts.  As if waiting to be acknowledged, his innards churned ominously, threatening to cramp up once again. 

“Shhh rest yourself.  Lie down and close your eyes.  Ol’Gran will keep the fires away.”  Shocked by those words, his eyes locked on hers, noticing her shrewd gaze as she gently took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

He felt so weak, his limbs were weighed down with stones, pinning him firmly to the bed and making it impossible to pull away from her too warm hands.   Every limb ached, his head spun and even breathing felt far more difficult than it should.

As if sensing his growing panic, the old woman smiled toothlessly at him, displaying darkened gums covered in vile spots.  She pulled away for a moment, sparing him the dreadful sight of her diseased maw and swiftly produced a glass of cool clean looking water. 

It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen and he opened his mouth obediently as she placed it against his lips, somehow managing to not spill half of it down his chest.  It tasted somewhat strange, but the sheer relief his dehydrated body felt after several deep swallows was so incredible that he didn’t care.  It could have been pure poison so long as it quenched his burning thirst.

“Good boy, good boy.”  The old woman crooned as one would with a sick child.  “Drink up, every last drop and get ready for your guests.  You’re very lucky, yes you are.  Ol’Gran would give her eyeteeth to be in your place… but ol’Gran doesn’t have any teeth left!  No she doesn’t.”  The old woman cackled playfully before lightly poking the young messenger on the nose.    

“Remember your promise young one.  The flames are still waiting should you break it.”  The water suddenly felt like acid in his stomach and he found himself glancing down at the hand she’d squeezed.  Resting in his palm, as if it had always been there was a beautiful purple gem, still cool to the touch. 

Panic filled him for a moment but those leathery fingers gently tilted his face up to look the old woman in the eye.  Eyes that were too shrewd and too clear to possibly belong to an old woman.  What was going on here? 

“Hide the gem.  Hide your purpose and watch.  Always watch.”  There was something in her tone of voice that made him desperate to obey, aware that should he fail; the fire would be the least of his worries.  She studied him for several long moments, weighting his resolve?  He didn’t dare ask.  Instead, he carefully moved his hand, placing the gem in his trouser pocket, ensuring that it wouldn’t fall out.  Thankfully his clothes were loose enough that the small stone would remain hidden from casual view. 

Please with this, the old woman then produced a strange root and pressed it against his lips. 

“Here sonny, chew on this, it will ease the pain.  Good boy, chew it all up but don’t swallow.”  The root was bitter, fibrous and altogether foul, but he chewed dutifully, too petrified of the not-woman to disobey.  “Keep chewing, there’s a good boy.  When you can’t taste it anymore, spit it out.  Yes, yes that’s good.”  She held out one of her gnarled wrinkly hands, expecting him to spit the masticated pulp into them.  It went against every bit of manners he possessed, but sheer exhaustion had him obeying the foul order.  Thankfully, she simply chortled in glee and tucked the pulp into one of her skirt pockets before standing on her tottering legs, picking up a waste filled bucket that he didn’t remember using… small blessing that judging by the smell.  At least she was heading towards the door, playing her part to the hilt.  If it hadn’t been for her words, her eyes and that strange magical gem, he’d have never known the truth.    

“Your company is here sonny.  Don’t you wear yourself out.  Ol’Gran wants you healthy and whole.  Silly boy, eating dantra berries.   Silly silly boy.”  He watched blearily as she tottered out, still chattering to herself.  Moments after she left, a tall figure appeared at his door, pausing for a moment before lifting something to their face and stepping in.  It only took a moment for his eyes to focus and when they did, Palos struggled to force his weakened body to its feet, but only succeeded in twisting up his sheets uncomfortably.  In the back of his mind, he could feel the fire licking at him, but as he shifted his weight, the cold hardness of the gem pressed against his thigh, smothering the heat and giving him greater confidence than before.  He could do this!  He was a hero and this was his great quest!

“Sir Allen!”  He stammered, hating how weak his voice sounded.  Now he knew why the room seemed familiar.  He was back in that damnable village in the care of his poisoner!  How he had ended up back here was a mystery, no doubt because of some foul sorcery Allen and his demon spawned sibling controlled!  It made him want to cringe away from the golden haired traitor despite the protests of his body but he grit his teeth and quickly squelched that idea.  No, he had to be strong, he had to have the power in this confrontation or it would all be over.

It didn’t matter how they’d found him or brought him back.  What mattered was that the voices had made it possible for him to complete his quest.  He wouldn’t have to track down the vile knight, he could simply convince him to take Palos with them.  Only… how in Jeture’s name was he supposed to do that?  The knight detested him, and rightfully so.  They were natural enemies; the Just versus the Vile.

“Ah, you’re awake.”  It was hard to tell because of the cloth in front of the knight’s face, but he was rather sure that the man was giving him a somewhat strained smile.  “You’d taken a turn for the worst and we were growing worried about you.”  That was a lie and they both knew it, but Palos was willing to play along for the moment to see where the traitor led him.  “Your fever was quite high but it seems to have passed.  You gave the maids quite a fright, yelling about the war.”  Sympathy seemed to flash across the knights handsome face and it honestly made the messengers stomach churn to see a Knight Caeli lie so boldly. 

“I’m doing better now… the old woman had said that I’d eaten something… I believe she mentioned dantra berries.  I’ve never heard of them before.”

“They’re mostly found in swamps, much like the ones around here and they look quite safe to eat.  Even those experienced in wood lore often fall prey to them.  My own crew recently learned that they don’t go well with stew though your symptoms were much more acute.   Has your stomach settled at all?”  The man was completely different from the cold and standoffish noble he’d dealt with previously.  It almost caught Palos off guard until he realized that the knight must suspect something.  That’s it he was being lured into a false sense of security with these gentle lies and friendly smiles.  No doubt the traitor hoped to send him on his way as soon as possible, wholly convinced that everything had been a fever dream.

“It still pains me somewhat, but other than a distinct lack of appetite, I find that I’m well enough to attempt to be civilized company.”  He smiled somewhat wanly, aware that he likely still stank like a privy due to his sickness, likely the reason why Allen had a nosegay hidden beneath that cloth by his face.  “I apologize for my previous words and attitude, I see now that it was the onset of this foul sickness and no disrespect was meant on my part.”  While his body might be wasted by the poisons coursing through it, his mind was still as sharp as ever and he wasn’t about to be twisted around again by the clever knight.  Oh no.  He knew the man’s deepest secrets and wouldn’tbe defeated so easily.

“There is no need to offer apologies.”  Allen lied, studying the man with renewed interest.  There was something different about him, sharper than before… a light behind his eyes where there had previously been nothing but self-interest.  Just how much poison had Dilandau given the man?  He’d never seen anyone in such wasted shape from laxatives.  The crew had only been mildly inconvenienced, this had been debilitating. 

“The scroll?”  Palos found himself asking, realizing that he still hadn’t fulfilled the duties which had sent him into this vipers nest to begin with.  Allen smiled at him and nodded his head towards the blue satchel resting on a hook by his bed.

“I’m afraid I already read the scroll.  Forgive me my presumption but we had no idea when you would awaken and I couldn’t wait any longer for a Royal Missive.  Thankfully it was simply a personal correspondence and lacking urgency, though your diligence in bringing it to me will of course be commended.”    Personal my ass. Palos sneered mentally even while noting how well the knight managed to look perfectly innocent of all wrongdoings.  To take a scroll out of a royal messengers satchel was taboo, but the knight did have a point and should Palos seek to bring him up on charges for breaching the sacred etiquette, he had no doubt it would be turned back on him for failing to hand over the scroll within reasonable time. 

If word of his failure to deliver his message got out, it would cost him his reputation.  Who would ever trust a messenger who failed to deliver?  Especially when carrying the most important documents in the realm.  Personal documents would never be given a messenger of his caliber.  No, the knight was lying about what it had contained.  Did the Royals suspect the treachery of one of the noble Knights Caeli?  It couldn’t have been an outright accusation or else he wouldn’t have woken up from the poisoning.  A warning then?   It seemed that he was going to have no shortage of things to watch for. 

“I’m simply pleased that you received the message and I deeply apologize for my tardiness in handing it over.  It is inexcusable.”  He’d have bowed if his body would have allowed it, but thankfully he was spared from that indignity by his weakness and Allen didn’t press the issue.  Instead, he waved the apology away as of being of little importance.

“What is important now is that you heal quickly and be ready to travel.  I imagine you loathe being away from court for so long, wasting away in a dull border village.”  The knight smiled behind his cloth, attempting humour in order to put the messenger at ease but Palos simply returned the expression with one just as fake.

“Actually I find my stay here to be most illuminating.  Misfortune always has a way of putting us where we are most needed to be.  Isn’t that how it was with you Sir Allen during the war?”  The first card in the game was put into play and Palos noted the slight narrowing of the knight’s eyes.  Yes, you traitor, wonder what I know, wonder who I will tell if you let me out of your sight.  I know you plan to claim that I was delusional, that anything I say I saw or heard was simply my sickness, but can you risk it?  All it takes is for one important person to believe me, to look deeper into what you’ve been doing since the war and then you’re finished.  You and your demon brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Apologies, ultimatums and several broken bottles.


	16. Explanations, Excuses and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van is having a rough day and seriously questioning his rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne but I did buy the blueray yesterday and have been happily binge watching the series! Anyway, don't sue me, I'm just playing with the characters.
> 
> No bottles of wine were broken in the writing of this chapter, though a few were drunk and enjoyed.

                The Crusade’s engines thrummed loudly as it completed its descent and Allen frowned slightly, noticing the extra strain on the left side and the excessive scratches along its belly.  His ship had taken damage?

                “Was Kio flying drunk again?”  Reeden murmured at his side and Pyle swore loudly as he also noticed the telltale wounds to the hull.

                “What the hell did he do to my ship!... er… The Boss’s ship!  Dammit, it looks like there’s something wrong with the propeller too!  I’m gonna kill him!”  The mechanic punched his fist into his hand, looking utterly furious over the damage while next to him, Teo frowned slightly and glanced at Allen.

                “It looks like they had a pretty hard landing.  I’m going to get the spare medical bag, I have a feeling that someone is going to need it.”  At Allen’s nod, the dark skinned medic slipped away back to the inn to gather his things, leaving the rest of them to loudly speculate what had happened.

                “Well, it looks like the kid didn’t try to steal the ship.  You owe me a drink Pyle.”

                “Screw you Ort, I wasn’t seriously meaning that he’d try!”

                “Next time don’t say it out loud then you moron.  You still owe me.”

                “Gentlemen, if you don’t mind.  We’re in public, there isn’t any need for squabbling.”  Allen kept his voice low but all of the men fell silent, watching as the huge ship landed gracefully in the clearing where it had been previously docked.  Back in the village, he could see numerous faces plastered against windows and leaning on fences as the villagers watched the famous leviship land.  Their two week long proximity to the vessel hadn’t dulled their fascination with the machine, not that the knight could fault them for that.  Leviships were rare and beautiful… rarer since the war.

                As if he didn’t have enough things to worry about.  Basram was teaming up with Madoushi, the messenger clearly knew more than he should and was obviously up to something, and now the leviship was arriving late after obtaining some rather worrisome damage.  This clearly wasn’t one of his better days.

                It took every bit of self-control he had to stand still and wait until the Crusade had successfully touched down.  The moment after the landing was secured, Allen strode forward to meet his crew; eager to hear the report which would explain what had happened to his beloved ship   Honestly, it had cost a small fortune, you’d think that they would show it a little more respect!  His keen eyes watched as the personnel lift began its descent and his steps faltered.  There were two people on the platform but one of them wasn’t who he’d been expecting.

                It wasn’t Dilandau’s cloaked form he was seeing next to his trusted second in command and it certainly wasn’t Katz’ hulking bulk.  The mechanics absence could be explained as he was likely already working on repairs for whatever had happened.  Dilandau was perhaps in another snit and not wanting to deal with villagers or crew… but the newcomer…

                Squinting against the fading light of day, Allen could almost recognize the scrawny figure with the dark tousled hair, but how… there was no way… that couldn’t be King Van… that was impossible… but… Yes, it was him.  How in Jeture’s name?

                Before the lift had even fully settled on the ground, Van was already striding towards the knight, radiating every ounce of impatient fury he’d been known for during the war.  The boy was practically bristling with righteous hostility even as Gaddes raced after him, trying to catch up while shooting the knight silent apologies with his eyes.

                Familiar with these confrontations, the crew all suddenly found something to do that would allow them to be out of the line of fire but still close enough to listen in.  They all knew that this would be good and he could already hear bets being places as to the reason Dilandau was missing was because the King had killed him and left his body to rot in the sun.

                “I want an explanation Allen, and I want it now!”  Van snarled, his brown eyes blazing with utter fury.  There was no need to ask what had upset him, Gaddes’ look of absolute guilt made that clear enough.  All Allen could do now was take a deep breath and brace himself for the inevitable storm.  All five and a half feet of it.

                “I had thought you were going to the mine south of the Chatal Mountains.”  Allen chose to ignore the raging monarch for the moment and instead confronted his second in command.  Better to do get the simple explanations out of the way first.  It was hardly as if Van could get any angrier than he already was.   “I’m getting the rather distinct feeling that this is not where you ended up.”   He somehow refrained from also stating that he had the distinct feeling that a certain albino was at the center of whatever calamity had befallen his ship. 

Using his most disapproving tone of voice seemed to work on the taller man and Gaddes hunched his back submissively, clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing and looking utterly at his own wits end.  The man looked exhausted, leading the knight to believe that he hadn’t slept much over the past two days and some rather livid scratches were visible just beneath the open collar of his shirt.  What in Jeture’s name had happened?

                Pitilessly, he watched as his friends face turned several shades of red and his eyes seemed to look everywhere but at him.  He’d never seen Gaddes look this out of sorts and while it made him terrified to hear the story of what had happened, he struggled to keep his face impassive.

Gaddes for his part was finding it next to impossible to face his friend after having spent the last few hours indulging himself with the man’s younger brother on several carnal levels.  It wasn’t the sort of thing one could really bring up in a conversation without it becoming immediately awkward afterwards.  Still, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret the actions.  In fact, he was already trying to work out how to schedule Kio’s shifts to ensure that the two had the cabin to themselves as often as possible in the future.  One thing for sure, with the king of Fanelia on board, Dilandau certainly had a plethora of frustration to burn off.  It made it rather hard not to grin from ear to ear at how much he’d enjoyed himself.

                “I want answers Allen!”  Van interrupted imperiously, pulling Gaddes out of his musings by stepping in between the knight and his vassal brashly.  “What was that monster doing in Fanelia?  What was that monster doing existing at all!?”  Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Allen glanced at the king and gave him his most patient smile, fully aware that it would do little to mollify the angry youth.  Why did all teenagers have to be so utterly unreasonable?  Was he cursed to be forever surrounded by them?  Keeping his thoughts from showing on his face, he simply nodded his head politely despite the king’s rudeness.

                “As do I Van, though I believe this isn’t the best location for such tales.  Perhaps we should board the Crusade and discuss this properly without an audience?”

                “I’m not going on that ship while that… that THING is there!”  Van pointed a finger accusingly at the leviship as if it had personally offended him.  Gaddes’ look of uncomfortable embarrassment became one of frazzled frustration and the knight could actually see tension lines edging the darker man’s eyes and mouth.   It was a safe bet to say that he’d likely been dealing with this attitude for a while now, likely from both youths and was at the end of his rope.  How he’d gotten through this intact was likely nothing sort of a miracle because if Van was behaving this badly, Allen wasn’t sure he wanted to see how Dilandau was taking it.  Out of the two youths, he was by far the more hotheaded.

                “The kid’s locked himself in the cabin and refuses to come out so long as our guest draws air…his words, not mine.”  The second in command muttered tiredly.  “He’s also put a dent in our wine stores and a few doors… we also need Teo.”  That last request caught the knight’s attention and he felt his mask crack as true alarm filled him.  Had Van hurt his sibling?

                Correctly reading his friends fears, Gaddes smiled reassuringly and held up his hands placatingly.

                “Nothing like that, Merle is in rough shape.  Kio did what he could, but he really doesn’t know much first aid beyond put the bandage over the wound and pray but that’s more than me really.  It’s nothing life threatening but she’s in a world of hurt… the kid didn’t do it.”  He quickly added almost under his breath and Allen felt something inside him relax with that statement.

                “Answers Allen!  Don’t ignore me!  You allowed a dangerous war criminal to enter into my country without any prior warning!”

                “I’ll answer your questions inside the ship.  Too many people already seem to know what’s going on and I’d rather not continue to broadcast it further.”  It was rather difficult to keep his voice calm and controlled in this particular situation but somehow Allen managed it and was rather sure he should deserve a medal for his efforts. 

While Van still looked furious, he reluctantly followed Allen back to the lift while the remaining crew swapped meaningful looks with each other and did their best to hide their disappointment over missing the show.

                The trip up the lift had never felt so long and no one dared utter so much as a word until they were in the hangar and flanked by the two looming guymelefs.  Van took a long moment to glare hatefully at the Alseides resting in the shadows before fixing the knight with a look of pure betrayal.

                “Let’s go to the mess hall to speak.”  Allen would have preferred his cabin, but if Merle was injured, he was rather sure that Gaddes would have given her his room in order to sooth the already angry king.  “Gaddes, how did you end up in Fanelia?”  Van made no attempt to move, clearly intending to deal with the situation right there in the hangar and there was little the other two men could do about it.  Royalty had its privileges. 

                “I’m not sure what happened.”  Gaddes began, choosing his words carefully, his eyes still looking everywhere but at Allen.  “I was asleep when it all happened, but when I woke up, I realized we were in the air.  Thanks for that little surprise by the way sir.  I ran to the bridge and found Kio on the ground with a concussion.  The kid had taken the wheel and was trying to set us down.  Just so you know, when he said he knew how to fly leviships, he left out the bit about not knowing how to land the damn things.”  Gaddes huffed loudly and Allen again struggled to keep his face perfectly neutral.  It was so utterly Dilandau to talk himself up, though he had no doubt that his brother would be making a point to learn all of the nuances to landing as quickly as possible.  He never did handle failure well.

“Kio said something about an air slip or pocket or something.”  Gaddes continued, growing more confident as he spoke.  “It looked like the wheel might have thrown him and he was concussed.   I’m not sure how long Dilandau had been flying before I woke up but he was trying to land it when I got there.”  While he spoke, Allen studied the second in command.  He knew the man well enough to know when bits and pieces were being left out.  Gaddes was a decent enough liar, but he still had tells and while the knight was sure the man was glossing over several events, he hadn’t outright lied… yet.

                “I sort of freaked when I saw the kid flying the ship and Kio on the floor, thought maybe he’d knocked him out.  Kio was bleeding a bit from his skull, but it was from hitting the edge of a console and not an attack.  Anyway, we tried to land… it wasn’t pretty and the ship got a little banged up in the process.

                “We’d overshot our destination by quite a bit and weren’t quite sure where we were anymore.  The kid hadn’t had a chance to check a map.  Anyway, after we stopped hitting things and landed, he patched Kio up a bit, Katz started the repairs and I figured that I should look around a little and see if I could figure out where we were.  You told me to keep the kid stuck to me like glue, so I took him too.  Now before you yell at me for letting him touch a single foot on Fanelian soil your Majesty, we were in a downed ship and didn’t know how long repairs would take.  I figured that if we scouted around a bit, we might find help or even some medicine for Kio… he was in rough shape for the first hour or so.”  Gaddes eyed the king warily as he told his tale, noting how furious he was getting and praying that no one would realize how much he was stretching the truth.

                “So we were out walking on some trails when we get jumped by a damn dragon.”  Gaddes couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of his voice and Allen raised an inquiring eyebrow at the change in tone.  “We sort of figured that we were in Fanelia at that point but there wasn’t much we could do about it.  The thing chased us all over the forest before we finally dropped it.  A few trees caught on fire but thankfully it didn’t spread at all.”

                “You fought a dragon!?”  Allen blurted out, unable to keep his voice steady in his utter shock.  Gaddes nodded his head, doing his best to look contrite but the knight saw the delighted shine in his friend’s eyes that usually followed some wildly insane stunt.  “You let my little brother fight a dragon?!”

                “He’s done it lots of times before.”  Gaddes argued before quickly shutting his mouth, realizing that the king of said land the dragons resided in was standing right next to him.

                “Dilandau must have been so disappointed about the fire not spreading.  It was a part of Fanelia he hadn’t burned after all.”  Van growled angrily making Gaddes wish he’d just avoided the bit about the dragon altogether, but it was sort of important to the rest of his story.  At least he hadn’t been stupid enough to mention the dragenergist.

                “That was the dragon, not him.”  He found himself arguing gently with Van.  “So, we killed the thing and pretty much fell over in exhaustion.  Next thing we know, these goons are on top of us, they’d followed the smoke from the fire, hoping to scavenge what the dragon left.  They were real unpleasant bastards… His Majesty knows what I’m talking about.  Anyway, they were talking about what they planned to do to us, but we fought and killed them.”  He looked back at Allen, his voice hardening enough to warn the knight that what had happened was too harsh to go into details.  “There were no prisoners.”

                At least this time Van didn’t interject though his face darkened visibly at the mention of the mercenaries.

                “One of them mentioned a cat girl in a rather unsavory context and we decided that no one deserved to be a prisoner for those types, so we tracked them back to their camp and saw Van all chained up.”

                “That must have made that monster’s night.”

                “We’ve been over this Van.  He’s the one who suggested we track the mercs and he went along with the plan to rescue you.  He could have very easily sounded the alarm himself or refused to help at all.”

                “It meant killing people, he’d never refuse that.”

                “It meant saving you.”  Gaddes shot back hotly, quick to rise to the albino’s defence  While he might not agree with the kids sheer brutality, he wasn’t going to just sit back and allow him to be slandered… no matter how accurate the accusations might be. 

                “Why are you defending him?  Van snapped angrily, taking a step towards the taller man and practically bristling.  “He burned your fort, murdered your friends and set fire to your capitol city!  He’s a monster who lives for nothing but battle and death!”

                “Because he’s saved my life half a dozen times in the past two weeks and hasn’t asked for a single thing in return!  The war is over Van and he was just as much a victim as anyone else.  If you knew the shit Zaibach did to him….”  He cut himself off, knowing that it wasn’t his place to discuss Dilandau’s personal demons and nightmarish past.  “Since waking up he’s been a right pain in the ass.  I’ll be the first to admit that, but he hasn’t been our enemy.  I trust him with my life right now, and I don’t do that lightly.”

                Van glared at him for a long moment, clearly convinced that he was somehow being controlled by the Dragonslayer.  Growling audibly, the king then turned to level those angry eyes at Allen, daring him to defend their old enemy as well.

                “What about you?  You didn’t warn anyone that he was back, you even let him have a guymelef?  Have you lost your mind?  You know what he’s going to do the instant he hops in that thing.  Everyone will die!  You either need to stop him, or take me back to Fanelia so I can get Escaflowne and stop him myself.”

                “He’s my brother Van.”  Allen snapped coldly, his eyes narrowing in warning as his patience rapidly dwindled.

                “He’s a madman’s science experiment.”  Van snapped back immediately.  “Celena might have been your sister but that… thing isn’t any relation to you.  He’s a monster and he’ll kill you the instant he thinks that it would be fun.”

                “Then why are you still alive Van?”   Gaddes found himself yelling at the king.  “You were chained up, you couldn’t fight back and he knew it!  He had a sword, you had nothing, but he didn’t even go near you!  Explain that!  Explain to me why a so called monster would let the person he wants dead more than anything walk away free.  Why would he put his back to you and lead you through a forest knowing you had a damn sword?  Why would he warn you when it clearly was tearing his mind apart to do it?”  Each question was like a slap in the face to the Fanelian king and Gaddes had to admit to a small bit of satisfaction in knowing that Van had no way of explaining his enemy’s strange behavior.

                “He’s not with Zaibach anymore Van.  He doesn’t want to work with them and he’s doing everything he can to stop the Madoushi and whatever they’re up to.”  Taking a deep breath, Gaddes turned to Allen, letting the concern he felt show on his face.  “Some Basram general is behind the attacks.  He’s teamed up with a Madoushi by the name of Shroden.  According to Dilandau, he was part of the experiments he was in, one of the head guys and on the same level as Folken… maybe even higher.”

                Allen was silent for a long moment, digesting all of the information and trying to sort it into various categories of importance.  The name wasn’t familiar to him, but that didn’t mean much, he was getting the feeling that the Madoushi handed over to the Allies had been little more than scapegoats and the real criminals had slipped away to continue their mad experiments elsewhere… at least they now knew where.  Jeture, Dilandau must be sick with dread, realizing that not only were his personal demons still alive but the one responsible for his suffering was after him once again… he’d been right.

                “How’s Dilandau handling the information?”  He asked softly, noting how Gaddes tensed at the question.

                “He’s not thrilled.”  Meaning that he was likely having violent panic attacks and should be kept away from anything he could turn into a weapon.  Lovely.

                “You still haven’t told me why you didn’t warn any of us that Dilandau was back.”  Van wasn’t about to let his grudge go despite this news.  When Allen looked at him, there was so much pain and sorrow in his eyes that he almost apologized for pressing the issue and guilt welled up at the very thought of doubting the integrity of his friend.  Had it really been that bad?  What could possibly force the beast back out of sweet Celena?

                “Two weeks ago there was an attack in this village.”  Allen murmured, turning away from Van and facing the looming figure of Scheherazade, seeking comfort in its sleek lines.  “We’d thought she was safe and had left her at the inn with only two guards… We had no way of knowing that she was the target.  They killed anyone who got in their way… she got as far as the stables before they caught her.  They… they… they hurt her.”  Allen paused to swallow several times, closing his eyes as he struggled to continue.

                “By the time we got to her… it was too late.  She’d changed into Dilandau, trying to escape the only way she could.  He was out of his mind from the change… didn’t know what was happening.  Waking up in a stable like that… he killed the man and then went into shock… we found him like that.  I don’t think he even recognized us at that point.”

                Allen shuddered and ran his fingers through his hair before taking a deep breath and turning to face Van again, his face once again composed.

                “He didn’t even know the war had ended.  Didn’t know that Zaibach had lost or that half a year had passed.  Can you imagine what that must be like?  By all rights, he should have tried to kill us and run back to his masters but he didn’t.  Once he calmed down, he realized that he finally had a choice about his future and he made it.  I’ve watched him kill Zaibach soldiers to protect my crew and he’s even volunteered to train my men for what’s coming.

“You want to know if I trust him Van?  I do.  He’s my brother and I’ll defend him with my life.”

“You’re all mad.”  Van took a step back, shaking his head in denial.  “He’s the enemy.”

“The Madoushi and Basram are the enemy right now.  It’s a different war and we have to redraw the lines or else they’ll win.  This is simply too big to fight alone, you have to realize that.  We’re not asking you to like Dilandau or trust him with your life, but we are asking for a truce.  He’s already agreed to it.”

Both men watched as the king ground his teeth together, fighting to deny everything they’d said and refuse this insane idea but he couldn’t deny what he’d seen already.  Pride would lead to his doom, so would holding onto hatred like this.

“I’ll never forgive him for what he did during the war.”  Van finally stated, glaring at both men for their part in this travesty.  “I still hate him and I don’t trust him.  The instant he steps out of line, I’ll put him down, Celena or no Celena but I’ll work with him.  It doesn’t seem like there’s any other choice.  He knows these sorcerers better than anyone else after all.” 

Both of the older men let out breaths they didn’t realize they were holding and nodded their heads.  It wasn’t an ideal agreement, but it was more than they’d have before.  At least there was the consolation that the king was a man of his word.  Granted, who knew what “stepping out of line” might entail for him.

“For future reference.”  Van continued through gritted teeth.  “Dragons are considered sacred in Fanelia.  I would appreciate it if you didn’t hunt anymore of them, their numbers are low enough as it is.”

Gaddes flashed the king a guilty smile and ducked his head, nodding slightly.

“Sorry about that… in our defence, the dragon did attack first.”

“Of course it did, that fre… ahem… Dilandau would be a damn beacon to them.  You’re luck it was only one.”

“One was enough.  I tell you, I’ll stick to riding horses in the future.  Dragons make terrible mounts.”  That earned the second in command a moment of shocked silence as Allen struggled to comprehend what he’d just heard and Van grit his teeth over the idea of anyone daring to dishonour a dragon in such a way, even if it had been intentional.  Granted, the knight figured that the king had likely heard this story already, but having it stated in such a blasé manner was… well, it was utterly unexpected.  Clearly the man had been hanging around a certain Zaibach youth for too long.  The kid was rubbing off on him.

Turning away for a moment, Allen left Gaddes to chat with the still visibly ruffled king while the knight pondered the events which had taken place, his sharp eyed gaze taking in the towering bulk of the Alseides unit.  Fortuitous that while on a trip to a boring old energist mine, their ship happened to be thrown off course and ended up in the middle of the Valley of Dragons and they just happened to run into one.  Even more fortunate that Dilandau was well versed in killing said creatures for their energist. 

Allen had heard several tales of the Dragonslayers hunts during his time with their captain, both from Dilandau and some of his slayers as well.  He knew that the albino preferred dragenergist over that which was mined and considered it to be far superior and worth the risk.  It also sounded perfectly in character for the impetuous boy to manipulate events in order to achieve his ideal goal.  Why Gaddes had gone along with it was a curious mystery. 

Most likely, the second in command had been swept up in events and was simply covering for his charge in order to keep things calm and avoid further strain on an already stressful relationship between the brothers.  He could understand and respect that, but he wasn’t happy about it at all.

“I’m going to speak with Dilandau.”  He murmured to the other two men before glancing at Van.  “Teo will be up shortly, he’ll check on Merle.  If there’s anything you need, please let Gaddes know and he’ll arrange things for you.  In the meantime, I’d ask that you remain on the ship.  Too many strange things are happening and I don’t wish you to be put at risk until we have a better understanding of what’s going on.”

Thankfully Van didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue and he gave Allen a cool nod, still clearly angry about what had transpired, but determined to keep his word now that it had been given.  With that in mind, the knight stalked towards Dilandau’s cabin, preparing himself for the fight he knew was coming.

What he found was perhaps a tad surprising all things considered.   Dilandau was sprawled out on his unmade cot, his shirt partially unbuttoned, casually revealing the rather discoloured expanse of his bruised looking chest and abdomen.  It looked painful enough that for a moment, Allen’s ire became pure concern.  Had he broken some ribs?  Was there internal damage?   If his wounds caused him any pain, he certainly wasn’t showing it.  Instead, he looked rather relaxed, a faint smile teasing his lips.

His hair was rather uncharacteristically tousled looking and there was actual colour to his cheeks.  The likely cause of said pigmentation was the empty bottle he was casually rolling around on the bed, watching the way the sunlight from the open port window danced across its surface.

Crimson eyes watched him as he entered, glittering with amusement.

“Schezar, sorry about denting your pretty ship.”  He didn’t sound overly sorry about it but Allen had grown used to that.  The kid never had learned to develop a respect for other people’s property.  Palas was an excellent example of this.

“Ships can be repaired.  Lives are much harder to fix.”  That earned him a raised eyebrow and a cocky grin.  Yeah, some things never changed.

“Good of you to mention that Schezar.  I want to work with Kio whenever the Crusade goes out and practice my landing skills.  Mine were abysmal and I won’t tolerate anything less than perfection.”  Dilandau stated just as the knight had predicted, though he did have to admit he was surprised to hear the youth admitting to anything short of perfection on his behalf.  It made him wonder just how many bottles of wine he’d had so far.

“I’ll consider it.  Right now, I’m more than a little impressed that you not only handled a crippled ship, but managed to land it in the one place in Gaea that I had specifically told you not to go.” 

Only an idiot would believe that wide eyed innocent look Dilandau was giving him and Allen had the distinct impression that while the zaibach captain hadn’t necessarily attacked Kio, he’d had more of a hand in helping along that concussion than Gaddes had implied.  Bringing it up wouldn’t accomplish anything except more fighting and really, what was the point in punishing Dilandau?  There was nothing worse he could do to the boy than making him swear to play nice with Van. 

Perhaps taking away the dragenergist he most likely had stashed away somewhere on the ship would do it, but they were going to need the Alseides up and running if they were going to have to deal with Basram as an enemy.  Grounding him would only hurt all of them.  At least now he understood why Folken had that damn tear tattoo.  It was a tear of utter frustration from having to deal with the brat under his command.

‘It’s amazing how Fate guides us isn’t it?  That’s what that moon bitch was always going on about right?  It seems like that from how the crew talks about her.  Maybe it was destiny that I end up in Fanelia in time to save the runt king.”  He grinned widely, obviously pleased with himself and his warped logic but Allen was irritated with how similar that statement was to what that fool Palos had said earlier.  Honestly he was sick of fate.

“Try to show some respect.”  The blonde muttered, tired of this old argument.  “They are war heroes and good people.  You’re trying too hard to be vulgar simply to insult me.”

“I hate heroes.”  Dilandau growled back.  “And your precious little king is nothing more than a murderer, just like me.  He just had the luck of being on the winning side.”  Slender fingers toyed with the wine bottle again, tilting it just enough that a blinding shaft of light continued to stab the knight in his eyes.  “He loves the blood and violence just as much as I do.”

“Then you two should be the best of friends.”

“Hardly.”  Dilandau scoffed.  “He has no sense of fun or adventure.  You should let us spar Schezar, it would be and exciting team building experience!  It worked with your crew.”  Allen didn’t even bother dignifying that with a response beyond a narrowing of his eyes.  As if he’d be that stupid.   Neither of them could be trusted with even blunted weapons around each other.  Hells, he could give them spoons and they’d still find a way to main themselves.

“Where’s the dragenergist?”  He finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall of the cabin.  From this angle he could see a disturbing amount of greenery tucked away in a small box under his brother’s bed.  With an audible growl, he stalked forward and pulled the container out from its hiding place, fixing an accusing glare at his sibling.

“Planning another mass poisoning?  Or are your stores running low?”  This time the brat didn’t even try to look innocent and instead smirked at him, enjoying some private joke.  “You nearly killed that messenger you know.  How many of those damned berries did you give him?”

“It’s because of him that I’m cooped up in here.”  Dilandau sneered, still toying with the bottle, the reflected light was threatening to give Allen a rather nasty headache.  “He got off easy.”  Crimson eyes focussed on the plants in the box and the sneer twisted into a wide grin which made the threatened headache into a reality.

“The ones with the big broad leaves are called “Gentleman’s pleasure”.  I planned to pulp it up into a nice oily paste to use as lube.  It gets very lonely alone here in my cabin you know, and you’ve made it clear that you’re more in the mood for breasts.”  Allen had to resist the urge to drop the box.  The last thing he really wanted to do was handle his little brother’s masturbatory material.  “Those purple flowers right there have a milky nectar that will make it tingle.”  He added helpfully, giving Allen more information than he ever wanted.  “Did you want me to share some with you?  That way you could make sure it’s not toxic.  Or you know, you could save it for another of your buxom bitches.  You might find an adventurous one that will let you take her up the as-”

“That’s enough Dilandau.”  Allen cut in, aware that his face was as red as the albino’s eyes.  “Yes… quite enough.”  He set the box down on the foot of the cot and then wiped his hands on his trousers as if they’d somehow become contaminated.  Thoroughly amused, Dilandau simply stared at him with an openly innocent expression, so exaggerated that it was mocking.

“Why I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this shy and demure Schezar, one might almost think you were a virgin.  Honestly I don’t see what your problem is.  It’s not like you haven’t enjoyed being adventurous in the past.  Perhaps it’s simply your choice in partners?”  He leaned forward, that innocently sweet smile still firmly plastered on his face.  “If you keep only fucking Astorian women you’re never going to have any fun.  Honestly I’m surprised your balls haven’t exploded yet.  Now if you’re that determined to stick your cock into some female’s slimy hole you should try a zaibach wench.  At least they won’t faint at the idea of something other than missionary position with the lights out… or so I’m told.  Dallet knew these twins who would-”

“That’s enough Dilandau!”  He didn’t mean to raise his voice, or sound quite so strangled while doing it and he knew by the triumphant grin on the teenagers face that he’d lost some sort of obscure challenge.  “The dragenergist.  I know you have one.  Where is it?”

“Why?  So you can take it?  Give it to the royal runt as a show of good faith perhaps?”  The smirk shifted rather impressively back into a sneer.  “A sort of “Sorry about the whole guy who turned your country to charcoal being back and me not telling you , no hard feelings?” Kind of thing?”

“Must you bring that up as well?”  Allen did his best not to growl.  “And his name is King Fanel or Your Majesty.  He’s royalty and will be addressed properly.  You’re Astorian nobility Dilandau, do try to act like it.”  It was only his rather finely honed reflexes that kept him from getting hit by the bottle thrown at his head with lethal precision and speed.

“I’m Zaibach nobility Schezar and I AM acting like it.”  Dilandau hissed venomously, on his feet in a split second and in Allen’s face, utterly oblivious to the glass raining down around them.  “We don’t bow or grovel to barbarian kings from burned out backwater countries and I’m not about to start doing that now.”  Apparently that truce wasn’t nearly as firm as he’d hoped.

“I thought you were no longer loyal to Zaibach.”  The knight murmured, feeling something cold stirring in his gut.  Eyes the same shade as energist glared at him hotly, the fires in their depths glimmering rather ominously.

“I’m not loyal to what they’ve become, crawling on their bellies like a whipped dog in front of lesser kings.  I’m not loyal to the madness of the Madoushi that tainted its core.  What I’m loyal to is the strong fierce and beautiful country I grew up in and that my men died for.  It’s not the country I hate Schezar, merely the bastards who run it.” 

With that proclamation, Dilandau seemed to calm instantly.  His mercurial moods shifting in the blink of an eye and he leaned back on his heels, giving the knight some sense of personal space as those eerie eyes of his gazed off into some unseen distance.  Allen couldn’t help but stare into their glimmering depths, wondering when that subtle change had begun.  The last time he’d seen the boys eyes look like that had been shortly before Castilo had burned and it filled the knight with a deep sense of dread.

“You never saw the Zaibach I saw.  You only saw the battlefields and campaign tents.  It wasn’t all like that… not always.  Zaibach was unlike any other country on Gaea.”  Dilandau sounded distant as he spoke, almost wistful and a faint smile tugged at his lips.  He seemed so young and innocent for those few precious moments that it was easy to forget the demon lurking inside of him and remember the beautiful youth he’d fallen for. 

“Everyone had a purpose there; we were united together in a dream to build the greatest country Gaea had ever seen.  Before Emperor Dornkirk, we were nothing.  We had nothing, not even our lives most of the time.  It was a never ending battle for survival simply for the sake of survival.  Most other countries would have bowed beneath the weight of our suffering, but we had pride, stubborn pride and it kept the people alive despite the odds. 

“The histories say that it was our collective force of will that called to the Emperor.  We wanted so badly to live, to grow and become strong that Gaea itself took note and reached up into the heavens and plucked the Emperor off the Mystic Moon, bringing him to us. 

“He gave us hope… life.  Emperor Dornkirk moulded us, shaped us and under his guidance, we grew stronger than we’d ever thought possible.  He was a legend in the flesh and each and every citizen of Zaibach owed him their life.  Before we knew it, children were living to see adulthood.  People had food, water, shelter… there was education, medical care and once our basic needs were met, we learned that there was so much more to life than survival.  We began to explore, to learn, to build.

“We went from being the carcass every other country fed from to exploding with potential, and as you other countries took note, we learned to protect what was ours.  We learned to build fortifications, invented weapons to fight and emboldened ourselves to stand up against those who had always preyed on us.  Everyone sees us as a nation of war, but they forget why we became that.  You all made us into what we became.   In the beginning it was simply to protect what we’d made, but once we grew stronger, we realized that we finally had a chance to take it all back.”

Those eyes glimmered dangerously and Allen was reminded of the Empires unending campaigns against its hostile neighbours, the ones who had taken the most from the once destitute land.  Astoria alone had been spared.  Historically, they were a merchant country, always happy to welcome other cultures and serve as a neutral ground during negotiations.  Zaibach had been of little interest to them until it was far too late.   

“You’ve seen our borders Schezar, but outsiders never see the heart of the Empire.  It’s impossible to look across the Capitol city and not feel pride stir in your soul.  We went from nothing but dirt huts to buildings which stand so high that they challenge your little gods with their strength.  The very air is so charged with power that you can hear the hum of energy everywhere and the clouds spark almost constantly in the most fantastic colours. 

“The capitol city never sleeps.  It’s always so full of life and there are so many lights that it looks like the stars have swapped places with the earth, blanketing everything in flickering jewels.  You can always hear music playing from the street corner speakers; it’s inspiring and beautiful; reminding you why we are strong and why we fight.  I always loved hearing it.  It was always one of my favourite things about visiting the capitol city.  Music in the camps was rare, same with on the Vione.  Folken said it made it hard to concentrate.  Barbarian.  What did he know?

“There were always storms and they’d tear apart the sky with their power, shattering the heavens.  You could hear them through the walls sometimes, shaking buildings to their foundations.  I used to take the Dragonslayers out in some of the stronger ones for manoeuvers.  We’d chase each other through lightning filled clouds, daring each other to try to get hit.  Miguel was a romantic and called it Stormdancing but the rest of us called it Riding the Lightning.  It was such a rush, almost as fun as a battle.  A direct hit could short out your systems for a few seconds, leaving you in a freefall.  The others had to dive to try to catch you before you hit the ground or if no one was close enough, you’d have to hope your systems came back online before you hit.  The goal was to get as close as possible to the ground without being killed.  I held the record.  Four costa from death.”  Dilandau grinned at this, interrupting his own monologue to enjoy a moment of self-satisfaction and to preen at his own glory.  Allen did his best not to pale at the very thought of that lethal fall.  Four costa was less than the height of a guymelef.  It was impossible to see this mad game as anything other than attempted suicide no matter how proud Dilandau appeared to be over his stupid record.

“General Adelphos would always tear a strip off of me afterwards for being reckless, but he couldn’t ban us from going out.  I’d arranged it so that we would equip our Alseides with special equipment for the Madoushi .  While we trained, we’d get power readings from the storms, and a few times we even carried these fancy conductors.  He didn’t dare stop us after that.”     

“Were you trying to die?”  Allen found himself asking his brother in a soft voice, feeling his heart being wrenched inside his chest at how close he’d come to losing his sibling without even realizing it.  Dilandau seemed unaffected by his horror and simply raised an eyebrow as if the possibility of dying hadn’t even occurred to him.

“Why would I die?  I knew exactly how high I was off the ground and my reflexes are superb.  It was excellent training and ensured that my team was capable of the split second timing we needed to pilot our guymelefs to their limit.  No one else was able to handle them as well as we were.  They didn’t dare try.”  The teenager grinned widely and turned away from Allen, crunching his boots across the glass strewn floor as he waved a negligent hand in the knight’s direction.

“That’s the difference between us Schezar.  You worry too much about the consequences of what you do.  You spend so much time worrying about what will happen if you do something rather than just doing it.  You’ve forgotten the thrill of living.”

“And I suppose Gaddes hasn’t?  You two seem to be getting along rather well lately.”  Jeture, he sounded almost jealous.  Allen had to take a moment to listen to his words and analyze his stance.  He’d been the one to encourage the two to spend time together, to give Dilandau someone to bond with in order to feel like part of the crew.  Was it really so bad that they got along?  Yes, when they stole his ship and took it on a murderous joyride to another country.  He wasn’t being jealous, he was being cautious.  That was it.

Of course, Dilandau seemed to have taken it the other way and raised an elegant silver eyebrow in interest at the knight’s discomfiture.

“You had your shot Schezar but you wasted it.” He scoffed somewhat hautily.  “And yes, that’s exactly why I enjoy the Fanelian’s company.  He knows how to revel in the moment.  If you’d seen him during that dragon hunt, he was fantastic!  He ran right up onto its back and rode the bastard across the forest!  I’ve never seen anyone do that before!  Even the brat king looked like someone had kicked him in the nuts when Gaddes said that he’d done that.  He actually tripped over his own feet and nearly dropped that stupid orange hair clot.  It was priceless!”

Dilandau turned around and looked at Allen critically, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You used to have that same wild passion inside you.  What happened?”

“I grew up.  There was a war after all.”  That earned the knight a snort of derision and the albino rolled his eyes before turning away again to look out the port window.

“Oh please, there is always s a war going on.  People are always fighting and dying.  It’s the way of things.”  He didn’t sound at all disappointed over this.  “I’ve seen you cut your way through a dozen men without batting an eye.  You’ve grown scared of your own mortality and you’ve let the deaths of others affect you.  It’s made you weak.”  It was hard for the knight to bite back his rebuttal of how deeply the deaths of Dilandau’s own men had affected him.  Bringing that up would only bring the conversation to a violent end and right now, he wanted to understand his brother more than he wanted to catch him in his own hypocrisy.

“Caring about the lives of others isn’t a weakness Dilandau.  It’s a strength.   Where you charge in recklessly, too wrapped up in the immediate moment to think of the danger, I prefer to be cautious and ensure that I fully understand the situation.  Before you choose to complain about it, do take into account that my attitude saved your life and continues to do so.” 

“Ah, but would you ride a raging dragon for me?”  Thought Allen could only see Dilandau’s back, he knew the kid was smiling, enjoying baiting his older sibling with the same careless glee he took in doing everything else in life.

“I’d keep you from hunting the dragon so that I wouldn’t have to do anything as blatantly suicidal as that.”  Was Allen’s practical reply and Dilandau shifted slightly to glance at him over his shoulder, a look of triumph on his face.

“But then I wouldn’t have the dragenergist and would be fighting with an inferior guymelef.  The mercenaries wouldn’t have seen the dragon fire and we wouldn’t have learned that Van was being held captive or who was behind all of this.  Our so called rash actions achieved that goal, not your two weeks of careful planning and waiting.  It was also a lot more fun.”  He couldn’t help but add.  It was a great temptation to actually tell Allen just how much fun he’d had for no other reason than to see the pompous knight utterly infuriated.  Pity that he’d decided that he respected the damn Fanelian too much to ruin the man’s life for the sake of a reaction.

“You’re not a general who can sit back from afar and choose the course of action for an army to take Schezar.”  He continued blithely, enjoying how each of his barbs hit their mark perfectly.  “You’re a warrior just the same as I am and that means acting, risking and yes, bleeding for the sake of battle.  So get off your pretty little podium and accept that this is our life.”

“Unlike you, I don’t revel in battle and bloodshed.”

“That’s your loss really.” Dilandau shrugged, hardly insulted by the accusation.  “I’m a creature of the times Schezar.”  Now it was Allen’s turn to clench his fists in anger and long for a bottle to childishly throw.  Still, through a monumental effort of will, he remained the bigger man and managed to keep his voice somewhat under control.

“This was a time of peace.  The war was over, Zaibach was beaten and your Emperor’s damnable device was destroyed.”  Unimpressed with that statement, Dilandau made a show of glancing down at himself before slowly raising his eyes to Allen.

“If it’s such a peaceful time, then why am I here?  Where’s the pretty little doll you called your sister?  Simply because you can’t see a war brewing doesn’t mean that there isn’t one.  First Zaibach, now Basam.  After them, who knows?  Most likely it will be a country beyond our immediate borders who’s been watching from the sidelines for the perfect time to strike.  Think of how much fun that would be!  A whole new enemy to explore and destroy!”  Again there was that alien light sparking behind his eyes, making Allen want to cringe in disgust.  This love of violence and death had to be a by-product of the Madoushi’s tampering, he had to believe that.

“We’re fighting for peace Dilandau, not more war.”

“Funny, that was the slogan for Zaibach.  A war to end all wars.  Only in a display of unmatched strength could unity be achieved.  There was a hundred ways to say it, but it all amounted to the idea that one day it would all be over and Zaibach could sit back and take a its first peaceful breath in centuries.”  The smile on the youths face made it clear that he hadn’t believed that propaganda for even a moment.  Not that he would have cared either way.  Dilandau had never hidden the fact that he only cared about fighting.  The fact that he could do it in support of the country he was devoted to was merely icing on the cake so long as the blood of enemies bathed his blades and excused whatever atrocity he came up with.

Allen rubbed his temples, wishing that his headache would go away but every word the youth spoke only served to reinforce the pain.  How did you reform someone who didn’t want to be reformed?  The Zaibach captain saw nothing wrong with his actions during the war.  Worse, he didn’t even care about the ethics behind what he’d done or would do again in the future.  Was he doomed to fight this new war only to take down his sibling at the end for the good of all of Gaea?  Jeture he desperately hoped not.  He wasn’t sure that he could survive that heartbreak.

“Can you give me your word that you won’t pull anything like this again?”  Allen finally asked, unsure of what exactly he could say in the face of that chilling realization.  “There’s too much at stake here for me to have to spend half my time worrying about you.”

“You shouldn’t have to spend any time worrying about me Schezar.  I’m an adult and have been taking care of myself for my entire life.  Don’t give me that look and don’t you dare say that I’m still a kid.”  The youth hissed, visibly bristling at the contrary look on Allen’s face.  “You didn’t think I was a kid when you were balls deep in my ass so don’t you dare think I’m one now.”

“Must you be so… vulgar?”  The knight growled, doing his best to keep his face from turning red at the memories those words dredged up and trying not to look at the box full of dubious sex plants.

“So long as you keep making faces like that?  I must.”  Dilandau grinned and shrugged his shoulders as he moved away from the window to stand back in front of the blonde, his arms crossed insolently over his chest.  “As for whether I’ll do anything like this again… I’m rather sure that saving Van’s life was a onetime thing.  We’ll call it temporary insanity and leave it at that.  Now, unless you have something interesting to say, I would suggest you go back to your little friendly barbarian runt and continue to grovel for his forgiveness.  As for myself, I’m going to get another bottle.  I’m hoping to get blackout drunk and forget that that bastard is on board, so don’t bother me again unless we’re under attack.”

A punch in the gut would have hurt less than that cold dismissal, but Allen knew that he’d pushed his sibling’s patience as far as he could tonight.  All things considered, he’d gotten off rather lightly in this argument with only having a single bottle thrown at his head.  No swords had been drawn for once, which was a decided improvement. 

Absently he found himself wondering if one day the two of them might be able to partake in a real conversation without having an explosion of violence prior to any honesty between them.  Likely not.  Dilandau never took betrayal well, and the knight knew that he was still angry over him choosing the opposite side of the war.  Though he would likely rather die than admit it, Allen was also willing to bet that he was also still angry over Hitomi and the slap in the face he’d given the proud young captain in front of his men as well. 

 

************

“Soooo what happened here?”  Gaddes asked as he stepped into the cabin, broom already in hand.  Allen had been kind enough to warn him to grab one before entering.  He’d even thoughtfully stated that he’d have Kio on first watch so that the second in command could keep an eye on the kid.  It seemed that while the knight had boldly stated that he’d trust the albino with his life, Van’s life was another story entirely.   Word was quickly spreading through the crew that both teenagers were to have twenty four hour surveillance for the foreseeable future. 

No one was overly thrilled with the prospect of having to try to keep the two nemeses away from each other should they decide to come to blows but all agreed that it was necessary.  There were no illusions on board that given the chance, blood would flow and death would follow.  It was an added stress that no one wanted or needed, but in the end, it meant that Gaddes would be able to enjoy some private time with the youth under the very nose of his commander.  It was too good a chance to pass up and he knew that the kid agreed.

There was no answer to his question.  Instead, surprisingly strong hands grabbed him and pushed him against the wall by the door the instant it had closed, pinning him neatly between cold metal and hot silken flesh.  Heated lips seized his own, claiming his mouth with a ferocity that left his head spinning in a rather delightful manner.   A tongue stroked at his lips, causing his nerves to spark to hyperawareness and he moaned in pleasure, granting entrance to his mouth and playfully sucking on that hot slick muscle. 

Blood rushed immediately to his groin as Dilandau pressed against him, pushing him harder against the wall, his slender body radiating an almost frantic eagerness.  The older man could feel the youth’s arousal pressed against him and slender fingers were already tugging at his blouses ties.  The kiss deepened, stealing his breath away and he couldn’t help but reach out and wrap his arms around that beautiful form, tracing his fingertips over sinewy muscle.

“Mmmm… glass… supposed to clean… clean the glass?”  He managed to murmur between kisses, noting how his hands seemed to have alternate plans and was already pulling the youth’s shirt off his shoulders, exposing even more beautiful flesh for his perusal. 

“The glass will still be there after you fuck me Fanelian.”  Dilandau growled softly, scratching his nails teasingly down Gaddes’ chest, loving how his dark nipples were already as hard as rock.  He wanted to suck on them teasingly and then bite those little nubs of flesh until Gaddes begged him for mercy.  Just thinking about it made him moan with desire though the sound quickly became a loud gasp as Gaddes kissed along his neck before biting him lightly just below the ear.  It never failed to drive him out of his mind and this was certainly no exception.

His earlier anger and frustration evaporated almost instantly, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.  Long slender fingers tangled in the taller man’s hair, holding him in place as Dilandau’s other hand slid down lower, wrapping around Gaddes’ waist and cupping the man’s beautiful ass.  Those teeth bit harder into the tender flesh of his neck and the teenager couldn’t quite bite back the needy whimper that escaped past his lips as stars danced in front of his eyes.

“Too many clothes…”  He gasped out.  “Bed.  Naked.  Now!”  It wasn’t a request, right now it felt like a matter of life and death as he took a step back, pulling the larger man with him and nearly snarling in frustration as he felt Gaddes resist.  He was in no mood to be patient right now and was ready to slap his lover for his hesitation.

“Glass.”  Gaddes murmured again, his voice low and guttural.  The sound made Dilandau’s innards clench in the most interesting ways and he couldn’t quite resist rocking his hips, grinding their shafts together through their clothing.

“I’m not asking you to fuck me on the floor Fanelian.  Get your ass onto the bed before I throw you there.”  He could actually feel the man grin in challenge moments before large strong hands grabbed him by his waist and lifted his much slighter form up off the ground.  Before he could protest, he was pushed down onto the bed himself and then pinned there by the lusty crewman.  Rather than be infuriated by this little coup, he instead laughed in delight at the man’s bold actions and rocked his hips so that they pressed against each other intimately once again.

“Mmmm still too many clothes.  What are you going to do about that-”  His voice was stolen from him as Gaddes once again latched onto that magical spot on his neck, making his words dissolve into a rather embarrassing squeak which he would deny till the end of his days if anyone asked. 

“Let me worry about the clothes.”  Gaddes growled, sliding his hands down that perfect body, savouring every little shiver, loving how utterly unrestrained the youth was in his passion… with everything really.  It excited him beyond words and made him want to drink it in like fine wine.  It urged him to push his own boundaries just to see what his beautiful lover would do and what new things he’d show the crewman.

“Oh?”  Dilandau managed to gasp out in the few seconds when the bite on his throat was relaxed, allowing his mind to work once again.  “You think you’re going to be the one in charge?”  He didn’t sound like he was objecting at the moment and Gaddes took that as a good thing.  So far, they’d had sex twice.  Once on the beach and the second time was a frantic coupling on Dilandau’s cot as the ship was returning to Astoria.  Both had been wild, rough and could be more easily called fucking than making love.  There’d been no tenderness, no emotion beyond wild animal need and while he’d loved every moment of it, he wanted to see what more tender lovemaking would elicit from the wild youth.  Would he enjoy it?  Would he melt against Gaddes or would he seize back control and ride the older man with ruthless abandon?  Both options thrilled him beyond words, but he was eager to show Dilandau his other erotic skills beyond the measure of his cock.

Grinning, Gaddes continued to lavish kisses and bites along that tender throat while gently stroking his fingertips down the length of one lean arm.  He kept the touch light, barely touching the sensitive skin as he drew teasing patterns along the nerves.  Judging by how the youth’s breath hitched, he was enjoying the sensation as this was further confirmed by those supple hips rising up to press himself against the older man.

“Gaddes…. Mmmmm.”  He couldn’t help but grin at the proud captain finally using his given name, too far gone to remember to taunt the man.  It made the moment even more precious to him as he gently picked up the arm by the wrist and began to kiss the pale flesh.  Lips and tongue marked every inch of that beautiful flesh until every inch had been claimed and the youth was shivering beneath him with need.   Only when he was finished did he raise the limb over the youths head and gently press it down onto the pillow.

“Hold it there.  Don’t move it.”  He gently ordered, earning himself a look of rebellious amusement and though Dilandau’s eyes sparked in challenge at having been given an order, he complied for the moment, interested in seeing where this would lead.

“Thinking you’re in charge are you?”  Dilandau murmured softly, his own voice hoarse with desire.  Rather than replying immediately, Gaddes instead took the second arm and once again began to kiss and gently suck on the skin, his eyes never leaving that molten ruby stare.  He took his time with this hand, lightly sucking on each finger teasingly until the teenager whimpered in need, his back arching as his lower body writhing wantonly.  Yes, they were definitely wearing too many clothes.

“No, not in charge.”  He murmured as he placed this hand next to the other above Dilandau’s head and seized those addictive lips with his own, drinking in the taste of vino and fire.  “Just wanting to show my appreciation.”

“Sneaky… very sneaky.  I suppose… mmmm suppose I’ll allow it.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but thrill a little at every gasp, loving that he was having such an effect on the boy.  “Yes…continue to lavish me with your ador-adoration.”  The stutter was adorable but he didn’t dare mention it.  Instead, he kissed those silken lips once more, stealing away both of their breaths while he began to work at the ties holding Dilandau’s trousers closed. 

The angle was awkward and the brat seemed to be unable to hold still, though every time his hands brushed against the youths straining groin, there were the most wonderful little moans.  It caused him to take somewhat longer to unfasten them and pull those long legs free of their confines.

The instant the clothing was kicked off, Dilandau tried to wrap his legs around Gaddes’ waist, but strong hands held his hips down and the darker man favoured the eager albino with a look of reproach.

“Patience.  If you do that then I can’t unfasten my own clothes.”

“Then stop taking so damn long!”  Dilandau hissed back.  There was no anger in his voice or eyes, only desperate desire, though Gaddes did take a moment to note that the arms still remained above the boys head.  It seemed that the kid could actually follow orders, if given the right incentive.

“I could always stop if you’re not enjoying yourself.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but tease and was rewarded by seeing Dilandau’s mouth snap shut almost comically.  The way he bit at his lower lip enticingly however was pure sultry need and the older man couldn’t help but moan softly and quickly pull at the lacings of his own trousers.

Only when he was free of the garment did he take a moment to lean back on his heels and take the time to admire the body laid out beneath him.

He’d seen Dilandau naked several times now but this was the first time he’d ever gazed at that nubile alabaster form and thought “mine!”  There was something visceral about the thought coupled with the sight of him sprawled out on the bed, quivering with anticipation and rapidly failing restraint.  Slender muscles were taut with the strain of holding himself still, showing off the perfect lean lines of his body in all of their perfection.  Sculptors couldn’t carve a more flawless example of a youthful male form.  From his flashing eyes, perfectly shaped face down to his flat hairless chest and pale pink nipples, diamond hard with need and aching to be teased.  The line of his abdomen flexed as he struggled not to arch his back, displaying the flat planes of muscles honed by endless hours in battle.

His body was nearly hairless, unlike Gaddes who bore a proud thatch of dark curls on his chest and a delicate trail leading down to his lusty shaft.  Instead, there was nothing but a smooth expanse of skin and only the lightest of snowy white down nestled between his legs.  His shaft was perfectly shaped just like the rest of him and the blood filling its hard length coloured it the most delectable pink, reminding Gaddes of sweet candy. 

Under the weight of his heated stare, the flesh seemed to jump, causing the shaft to bob delightfully and surprising both of them, Gaddes shifted; kissing a trail down that beautiful body until he drew up to Dilandau’s engorged length.  He could feel the boy watching him, practically hear him wondering if he was actually going to do it.  Would it be bitter?  Sweet?  He knew that every woman tasted different, some were a delight to devour while others… well, to call it a chore would be a kindness. 

Still, there was something intimidating about that shaft of flesh.  Sure it wasn’t nearly the size of his own but he was struck all of a sudden by the realization that he had no clue what to do.  This was nothing like actual intercourse, that was simple enough and his body already knew what to do when it found a wonderfully hot and tight hole but he was rather sure that instinct didn’t cover this… did it?

“You don’t have to.”  Dilandau murmured, watching him with interest and enjoying the look of trepidation on the previously confident features.  Still, he’d noticed the curiosity burning in those eyes coupled with the stubborn tightening of his jaw and could tell that this was indeed something Gaddes wanted to do.  “Just… do with what feels good.  Mind the teeth though, that’s one place I’m not thrilled on being bitten.”  His patience actually surprised himself.  Had one of his previous lovers had hesitated like that; he’d have either threatened them to make a damn choice or else leave.  Or, on one occasion, he’d simply taken hold of their hair and decided for them.  

Building up the courage, Gaddes instead started by kissing along his inner thighs and Dilandau spread his legs open in order to give the man as much room as he might desire, his fingers digging into the pillow beneath his head, kneading it like a cat as he struggled to hold still. Damn, the man had no idea how good he was.  Even those tentative kisses and nibbles sent shocks down the length of his spine, forcing him to bite back a moan.

Emboldened, Gaddes lavished the smooth thighs with kisses, taking a moment to suck playfully on a choice bit of skin and earning himself a sharp hissing gasp as muscles quivered beneath his lips.  From there, it was simple enough to shift his head to the side just enough to feel that surprisingly hot shaft brush his cheek.  The flesh was even softer than the rest of the boys skin though it was as hard as steel.  Glistening beads of pre-cum threatened to spill from the tip of his shaft and at his touch, it twitched sharply, eager for attention.

Reaching out a careful hand, he gently stroked his fingertips along its base, feeling where the hard shaft met firm testicles.  The snowy down felt coarser than Dilandau’s hair, but still much softer than his own pubic thatch.  Curious, he gently squeezed the delicate globes of flesh, feeling their supple shape and enjoying how each slight squeeze elicited rather interesting moans from the youth.  It was hard to tell, but he was rather sure the boy was chanting “Yes” over and over again.  Interested in seeing if he could get a please added into the mantra, his fingers stroked upwards, following the line of a large vein along the shaft to the tip which was growing darker as it became more engorged with blood. 

A delicate bead of liquid fell onto his finger and before he could talk himself out of it, he brought it to his tongue and pondered the taste.  It was an odd mix of salty and sweet, with musky undertones.  Unexpected and not unpleasant if he was being honest with himself.  Was this a taste unique to Dilandau himself?  Or did all men taste like this?  Did he dare take a sample next time he brought himself off?  No, better to ask the kid, just in case. 

Leaning forward, he reached out with the tip of his tongue and stroked across the crown of flesh, coating his tongue with the thick liquid and eliciting a high pitched whine from Dilandau as his hips gave a little jerk.  Any moment now, he expected to feel hands tighten in his hair and every moment that passed impressed him with the youth’s resolve to follow the orders given.  He could really get to like this obedient Dilandau, though he had to admit that what made it truly sexy was knowing that his resolve was crumbling.  At any moment, he would burst free and push them both into a blazing coupling of unrestrained passion.

Grinning now, the darker man continued to lick at the straining flesh, noticing how it quivered almost continuously now and that the albino’s hips gave almost constant little jerks.  Muffled gasps made him glance up for just a moment and he saw that Dilandau had one of his arms over his face.  Biting into the meat of his forearm, he was doing his best to stifle his growing cries.  It was one of the hottest things Gaddes had ever experienced and it gave him such an incredible rush of power to know that this elemental being was so utterly at his mercy and loving every moment of it.

In response, he slowly licked his way back up to the top of that straining shaft and upon taking a deep bracing breath, drew it into his mouth.  Dilandau gave a sharp cry as he was engulfed in electric heat and his muscles clenched so hard that they threatened to cramp as he struggled to hold still, not wanting to frighten Gaddes by driving deep into that amazing throat.

Mindful of his teeth, the older man carefully swallowed the hard flesh, using his fingers as a guide to keep himself from taking too much too quickly, testing to see just how deep he could take the heated flesh.  Keeping his movement slow yet steady, he used his tongue to tease the underside of the shaft constantly and noted how Dilandau was writhing beneath him, unable to stay fully still despite his best efforts.

“Yes… Gaddes… yes don’t stop… just like that…”  The words were muffled by his arm but understandable and the older man gave himself a little victory pat on the back at being able to reduce Dilandau to a puddle of gibbering need with just his mouth.  It felt… well it felt damn amazing really.  This was definitely something he was going to enjoy doing on a regular basis and he doubted that he’d get many complaints on this idea.  Still, his jaw was beginning to ache.  It wasn’t used to being used in such a manner and while Gaddes was interested in seeing what it was like to bring his young lover to completion in his mouth, he knew that there was something far better he could be doing.

Without releasing his hold on that straining shaft, he reached over to where his mattress met the wall and felt along the side for the small vial of oil they still had left from the dragon hunt.  He couldn’t wait for Dilandau’s lubricant to be ready but the boy had warned him that it would take a day to prepare properly and really, there was no sense in wasting the oil.

With surprising dexterity, he uncorked the vial and poured a liberal amount onto his hand and fingers before setting it down on the little side ledge.  His beautiful lover was so far gone that he hadn’t even noticed his actions until a slick finger pressed against his tight entrance.  Those slender hips bucked up slightly, pressing him deeper down Gaddes’ throat and nearly causing him to choke.  Recovering quickly, he held the hips down with one hand while the other slowly worked his finger more deeply into that silken passage.  Muscles clenched at him tightly and fluttered at his touch as Dilandau’s cries grew needier.

A second finger was added, then a third as he scissored them carefully.  He’d learned by now that his reckless lover seemed to enjoy the pain of not being fully prepared but this time he was going to do this the right way, ensuring that he was fully stretched before proceeding further.  Despite the frustrated moans, he added a fourth finger and took his time sliding them in and out of that greedy little hole, loving how it clenched at him, trying to draw him in deeper.

“Now!  Can’t wait… dammit Gaddes Please!  Please fill me!  Please.”  Dilandau sounded as if he was only seconds away from bursting into tears from the denial he was suffering and when Gaddes finally let him slide out from between his lips, the boy let out a low desperate moan.  His hips rocked up, seeking the lost heat, his shaft looking ready to explode at the slightest touch. 

Unable to help himself, Gaddes gave that bruise on the pale inner thigh another sharp bite and kiss, loving the primitive cry that wrenched itself from the boy’s lips.  The sound cut through all the layers of civilized though and reached directly into that primal core of his mind.  He nearly lost all control at that sound and had to pause for a moment to keep from climaxing right there and then.  Jeture, how could anyone be that desirable? 

With quick motions, he lathered the last of the oil onto his straining shaft and positioned himself at that quivering entrance, feeling the silken flesh flutter against the head of his shaft even as Dilandau raised his knees, spreading himself open.  Faintly glowing eyes watched him from beneath snowy white lashes and Gaddes couldn’t resist leaning forward to kiss those lips once again.  As their tongues intertwined, he pressed forward, feeling the tight flesh resist his entrance for only a moment before slowly parting.  Silky muscles squeezed him mercilessly as he rocked his hips slightly, teasingly almost pulling out before those legs tightened around him in warning. 

Dilandau rocked his own hips up sharply, desperate to not lose a moment of that glorious penetration, needing to feel it all, frantic to be filled.  He forgot all about his determination to keep his arms above his head and reached out to grasp at his lover, holding onto him with bruising force, trying to press him in deeper.

“Yessss, oh Yes Gaddes… fill me!  Take me!  I want it all!”  He cried out against his lovers lips, shameless in his need as his hips bucked again.  When those strong hands once again held him still, he almost screamed in frustration.  The only thing that stopped him was the slow penetration as Gaddes’ hips once again pressed forward, sinking in deeper than before with a slow relentless push.

Dilandau’s head spun from the sensation and his body felt like it was on fire in all the best ways.  He could feel lightning sear his spine as molten pressure filled his cock.  The best was deep inside where that beautiful flesh pressed against that special place that caused explosion after explosion, threatening to tear him apart.   Every pulse of that massive shaft caused it to spark, and every slow powerful thrust sent off a new wave on top of the old until they began to build on each other, filling his body until he was convinced that he was going to lose his mind.

He’d been taken slowly and tenderly before.  Miguel had loved it and even Gatti had indulged himself in gentle lovemaking on occasion, but never like this!  Not even Allen with all of his bedroom manners could compare to this brutally slow buildup of sensation.  It made him feel like he was trapped in an unending orgasm but he knew that he hadn’t even reached the peak yet.

Still Gaddes drew himself in and out of his slowly shattering body, his thrusts picking up speed and growing in power with each deep penetration until Dilandau was positive that they were going to either tear the bunk free of its moorings or rock the leviship itself. 

The man found the perfect spot to spear him with every driving thrust and all too quickly, Dilandau found himself unable to think, his awareness of the world dissolving until there was nothing but that perfect weight on top of him and that huge shaft of the gods themselves spearing him.  Had the ship blown up, a dragon rampaged through, or Van himself walked in and begged to be set on fire, he wouldn’t have noticed or cared.  All that mattered was that blinding wall of a storm he could feel rapidly building deep in his core and he clung to his lover tightly so as to not be torn away.

Gaddes felt the rapid tightening of Dilandau around him, heard how frantic and high his cries were growing.  Normally he’d have been terrified that someone would hear, but he was beyond such higher thoughts.  Nothing mattered beyond driving into that soft tightness as deeply as possible and knowing that every driving thrust brought him closer to ultimate perfection.

Suddenly, Dilandau let out a strangled cry, his body convulsing wildly as every muscle tightened to their limits.  Gaddes practically screamed at the sensation of that glorious passage growing so tight that he could barely move, but rather than holding still, it drove him into a frenzy and he found himself pounding into the body beneath him ruthlessly as if trying to break it.  At that moment, Dilandau went wild, his body rocking up to meet each thrust, welcoming him into his depths and squeezing with agonizing tightness at each withdrawal.  They both became creatures utterly of the moment, ruled by pure brutal instinct.  Teeth and nails met flesh, digging in deeply as they clung to each other and tried to smother their screams with their bodies.

As quickly as the climax had come upon them, it faded, leaving them both gasping for air and shivering against each other, their bodies wracked by deep spasms from the sheer intensity of the experience.  The sheets beneath them were soaked with sweat and seed, but neither of them cared.  They still clung to each other tightly, having forgotten how to let go until finally sheer physical exhaustion turned their limbs leaden.

Gaddes felt himself soften, slipping out of Dilandau’s body and with great care, lowered the boy’s legs from his shoulders and shifted to the side so he wouldn’t crush his lover.  Pale arms clung to him tightly despite how they trembled at the effort of doing so as the albino burrowed tightly against him, one slender leg sliding up along his thigh intimately.  Petal soft lips found his, bestowing tender kisses and the teasing tip of a tongue but didn’t seek to deepen it.   They both needed air too desperately for that.

For several long minutes, they lay in perfect silence, breathing in each other’s air and sharing gentle caresses, waiting for the world to stop spinning.  Gaddes was breathless in the aftermath, stunned that he could ever feel anything that intense.  While the other two times with the albino youth had been amazing, this had been… cataclysmic.  He’d never known anything to feel like that and was left wondering just what it was about this strange tortured youth that set him on fire so perfectly.

“That… that was amazing.”  Dilandau murmured softly in-between gentle kisses.  “National treasure.”  His lips gently brushed against a particularly nasty bite on Gaddes’ shoulder that he didn’t remember giving him and the tip of his tongue darted out to taste the beads of coppery blood welling up.  “If I’d known you were this incredible, I’d have forgotten all about the damn dragon and taken you prisoner.” 

Gaddes wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered by that statement, seeing as how nothing could sway Dilandau from his obsession, not even a damn energist bomb going off in his face.  It was high praise… if somewhat threatening… in other words, pure Dilandau.

“If I’d known how amazing a lover you were, I’d have let myself be captured.”  He replied, earning himself a soft chuckle of appreciation.

“You’re going to have a hard time explaining that shoulder.”  Dilandau murmured, burying his head beneath Gadde’s chin and bestowing a light kiss on his collarbone.  Unconcerned, the older man simply yawned and stroked that soft silvery hair, combing out the sweaty strands with his fingers.  Tomorrow didn’t matter, nothing mattered beyond this moment and the perfect being in his arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can really say is that Van is having a hard day and yeah, he's not all that readily accepting of having an old enemy as a trusted friend. Hells, even his trusted friends are acting decidedly shifty. I don't see the two of them putting aside their differences that easily after all the hell they put each other through.
> 
> I always sort of wonder what life in Zaibach would have been like and I can easily picture propaganda music playing regularly to keep people all gung ho about the war effort and hey, a bunch of teenagers joyriding in war machines isn't that far of a stretch either. Still, it's rather twisted that when you think about it, Dilandau was inadvertently supplying extra power for the Madoushi to perform their sick experiments, likely on other kids like him. Also yes, He's still got his loyalties to the Empire and his Emperor, that sort of cultural brainwashing doesn't just go away because you're angry with something they did. He's sort of putting all the blame on the Madoushi seeing as he already hates them. In short, Dilandau is a mental mess and he really needs several long sessions with a legion of psychiatrists to sort himself out.
> 
> Next Episode: Some old friends show up with some advice


	17. Specters of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advice from an unexpected source and a breakfast of champions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of it's characters. Don't sue me i can barely afford my bills as it is.
> 
> So, it's been a slow week for writing for me. Stupid migraines. I've been wanting to put the opening scene in for a while and this was the perfect time to do it. Hope you enjoy.

 “Shesta, I swear on the Emperors pin-curled beard that if that’s another trashy romance novel you’re reading, I’m going to burn it and feed you the ashes.  They’re useless and I don’t tolerate useless things.”  Dilandau strode into the lounge of his elite Dragonslayers without warning, casually knocking Dallet’s feet off of the table as he passed with a familiarity borne of endless repetition.

Everyone in the room straightened up immediately though none of them rose to their feet at attention.  This was the only room on the Vione where the pale captain permitted such an indulgence.  This communal lounge was informal ground as far as he was concerned.  A place where his men could relax and take a breath from the constant crushing pressure he foisted upon them.  As such, they guarded their common room jealously and not even the auxiliary members of the team were permitted past the doors unless it was an emergency. 

Still, each and every member of the elite team was acutely aware of every facet of their leader’s mood and actions, whether they showed it or not.  Only a fool ever fully dropped their guard around Dilandau and the young captain liked it that way. 

The sweet faced blonde looked up sharply at his entrance, wide blue eyes radiating perfect innocence as he held up the book for his captain’s perusal.  It was one of their required reading books, a rather dry history of the border war between Egzardia and Basram.  Dilandau had already read it, taking the time to notate alternate strategies and following the evolution of their various tactics in the margins with his usual scathing sarcasm.  Vaguely he wondered if Shesta was reading that particular copy or if Folken had already pulled the marked book from the inventory.  The Strategos was always endlessly infuriated with the young captain’s lack of regard for property damage and hadn’t been at all impressed when Dilandau has dared to state that he’d made the book far more interesting.  The captain still stood by his assessment that General Batiste would have been far more successful in his campaign to expand Basrams territory beyond the Mardus mountain range if he’d only eased up on his consumption of Bilar berry wine.  The fruit was known to cause severe constipation when taken in regular doses.  Apparently the Strategos didn’t share his sense of humour in that regard and had blandly stated that there were better ways to imply that famous Generals of the past were full of shit.

Favouring Shesta with a faint nod of approval, the crimson eyed youth coolly studied the room and its occupants, ensuring that he didn’t see any contraband lying around and that everyone was relaxing in an approved manner as befitting the elite members of his unit.  He’d already paid visits to their auxiliary members and meted out appropriate punishments for scuffed boots, unfastened armour and an unoiled sword.  That last one had earned Miyujin twenty laps around their track and a rather long and loud lecture regarding how an untended weapon could easily lead to one’s death.  If the running hadn’t drilled that lesson into the fools head, the rather sound slap he’d received should have.

Still, it pleased him to see his elite behaving properly.  They all looked fit for battle, their uniforms in peak condition and care.  Most of them had removed their jackets, but they were still near at hand, as were their weapons.  Should there be a call to arms; each man would be ready almost instantly.  Even the room practically shone.  The captain knew that if he demanded to see any of their weapons, he’d smell the comforting scent of clove oil and see his reflection perfectly in the flawless blades. 

“The daily reports are on your desk Lord Dilandau.”  Gatti stated, pouring his captain a glass of wine and passed it over with his usual brisk efficiency.  Taking the glass with a slight nod, the albino enjoyed a small sip, taking a moment to savour the tart liquid as it rested on his tongue before swallowing.  It was a good vintage and helped lessen the headache which had plagued him ever since those damn Madoushi had stepped onto the Vione, demanding to speak to him.  Even now, he couldn’t bring to mind exactly what had happened or been discussed, but his entire body ached and his mind felt full of cobwebs.

Folken had given him some strange concoction to drink afterwards and it had made him slightly more comfortable, but he loathed that sense of weakness that always plagued him after one of those… visits.

“Did… did everything go well?”  Viole asked, looking up from the card game he and Guimel were having at the center table.  Everyone had clearly been wanting to ask the question but only the long haired slayer had dared to voice it which was rather surprising.  Normally either Gatti or Shesta would take that risk.  Viole must have been far more worried than he sounded. 

In response, Dilandau motioned for Gatti to pour wine for the rest of the room, noting that his second in command had already taken the liberty of pouring a glass for himself.  The gesture was rather out of character for the pale captain and everyone was eager to indulge, fully aware that touching Dilandau’s vino carried the penalty of a slow and torturous death.

“Gentlemen.”  He intoned with mock gravity as he held his glass aloft.  “The investigation has been concluded, and it has been stated that the dearly departed and much lamented Horizon squad had an apparent massive breakdown of internal discipline and turned on each other.  There were no survivors, no witnesses and no sign of outside interference.”  As one, the elite Dragonslayers all grinned savagely, not a single one looked at all upset over this distressing news.  “Let us have a drink in their honour and wish them a merry walk along the paths of the dead.  May they serve as an example to others to never ever fuck with the Dragonslayers.” 

The resounding cheer was as heartfelt as their predatory grins and each member drank deeply to the memory of how wonderful it had felt to tear the opposing squad apart. 

“To Gatti, good work on cutting off their comms.  They never got a single distress signal out, and for rerouting our own beacons so we never appeared to be anywhere near them.”  Glasses were raised again as the sandy haired slayer took a deep bow.  “To Dallet, for coming up with a way to siphon their crima reserves so we could prove that we hadn’t shot out a single naughty little claw.”  Again there were cheers as Dallet bowed, his hair obscuring the wide grin on his face for a moment. 

Dilandau wasn’t quite finished though and his smile grew wider as he raised his glass one last time.

“Finally to Strategos Folken, for kindly making our stealth cloaks, sending us out to test the prototypes and for him hilariously stating “When I’d mentioned for you to work on teambuilding exercises, I hadn’t meant for you to do so in quite such a murderous fashion.”  Heh, as if there was any other way.”  The albino laughed, the sound echoed by his subordinates as they finished their glasses.

“Lord Dilandau, how did Lord Folken learn about what we did?  Is he going to report us?”  Gatti asked, looking somewhat nervous about having to burst his captain’s bubble of happiness.  Rather than receiving the expected slap, Dilandau instead patted the slayer on the back and chuckled. 

“Who knows how Folken finds out anything.  I swear the man isn’t human.  As for turning us in, if he was going to, he would have already.  Besides, he doesn’t care what we do so long as his goals are met and I would say that our testing of his stealth cloaks was a resounding success.  If Zaibach technology couldn’t locate us, then none of those damn barbarians will ever see us coming.” 

Gatti refilled his captain’s empty glass without being asked, not bothering to hide the awe on his face at how their leader had managed to successfully bloody the nose of Silver Army’s General Peitre a second time and live. 

As Dilandau enjoyed his second glass of vino, Miguel stepped forward offering to take his jacket from him so he could properly relax.  Tips of his fingers discreetly trailed lightly down the albino’s spine in open invitation but his hand was knocked away as crimson eyes shot him a cool reprimand.  The young captain loathed being touched in public and showing any gesture of affection in front of others was utterly unprofessional as far as he was concerned.  While his elite Slayers all knew of the relationship between the two men, that was no reason to flaunt it.  Intimacy was to be indulged in only when one was off duty, and Dilandau was almost always on duty.

Gatti and Shesta both shared private smiles of their own, noticing the rebuffed efforts and separately pondered their own chances of stealing away their captain’s affections for the night. 

“Did you hear anything about us being sent to deal with that border war between Cesario and Astoria?”  Miguel asked, flashing his companions a glare of challenge, refusing to be so easily put off.  He knew his captain well enough to know that the gentle slap was in no way a refusal.  Had he meant it, the slayer would have been knocked to the floor with a ringing headache. 

While Dilandau noticed the looks shared between his three courters, he paid them no mind.  Challenge brought out the best in his men.  So long as they didn’t do anything to harm the unity of the team, he allowed them their games.  After all, those three were his best and he didn’t mind playing the part of their sought after prize so long as none of them made the mistake of thinking that he wasn’t the one holding the power.

“Yes, General Adelphos was quite impressed with our last mission and has approved a cooperative mission with Astoria.  We’re to be one of the units sent to represent the glory of the Zaibach army.  Only Copper Army has been invited to take part in the skirmishes.  It’s a reward for us once again displaying our clear superiority to the Emperor as well as the rest of the Demon Armies.”  Dilandau placed a hand on his hip as he sipped his vino, allowing his pride to show in his voice.  “It’s a pity that the Silver Army can’t seem to keep up.”

“Together we’re unstoppable!”  Shesta called out loudly, his voice echoed by six other throats as Dilandau himself joined in the cheer.  It felt right to join in, though he had a feeling that once before, he’d simply sat back, sipped his vino and smiled smugly. Once before?  Had they done this before? 

Dilandau’s smile faded to a look of confusion and he looked around at his friends faces.  They were so young, innocent and full of life in one of the best moments of his life.  But… the moment hadn’t lasted had it? 

The tiny blue flames in the lights took on an almost ominous and portentous feel and the wine grew tasteless on his tongue.

 

It wasn’t real… none of it. 

This was a dream and his friends were dead. 

 

The glass fell from nerveless fingers, shattering on the floor.  The vino spattered outwards, too thick to be wine, too crimson to be anything but blood.  The room dissolved as the cold steel walls became unforgiving stone and the ceiling faded away into a stormy sky.  He now stood on a plateau on the edge of Freid, a battlefield he couldn’t ever forget no matter how hard he tried.

No…. no he couldn’t see them die again.  Not like this, not when he needed them at his side so desperately.  How could he face this battle alone?

A cold gentle hand touched his shoulder, slid around his back and pulled him closer.  For once he didn’t struggle to pull away and instead leaned into the touch, breathing in a familiar scent he’d thought was gone forever.

“M….Miguel?”  Crimson eyes blinked in confusion and he drew in another deep breath, memorizing the scent of crima metal, sword oil and lemon soap.  “I… I’m dreaming aren’t I?  Any minute now, you’re going to die in front of me.”  His voice sounded dull even to his own ears, defeated.  This wasn’t a dream, he knew this instinctively.  Nothing ever smelled or felt this real to him, but he knew that this also wasn’t the waking world.  His slayers were dead, lost to him forever, not surrounding him with their comforting presence, holding him tightly. 

“Not yet Lord Dilandau.”  Miguel whispered in his ear, cold lips brushed across the edge of his ear, tickling him gently but there was no accompanying sensation of breath behind those words.  It was eerie, but the familiar voice and the gentle touch were too comforting to cause him any worry.  Whatever was going on here, he was safe.  “I promised to always be there for you, and you need me right now.  You need all of us.” 

“Look at us please Lord Dilandau?”  Gatti asked in a voice filled with warm patience, sounding as if he’d happily wait forever to see the crimson eyes of his beloved captain.

Still refusing to look up, Dilandau shook his head with childish stubbornness, holding his precious slayer tighter in his arms and refusing to let go.  A huge part of him was convinced that if he dared look up, dared to acknowledge them that they would fade away again, leaving him alone.  He couldn’t take that risk, it was simply too much.

“No…. no it’s a trick.”  He spoke into Miguel’s shoulder, feeling icy fingers stroke through his hair, gently massaging his scalp the way he’d always loved.  “You’re dead… you’re all dead.  You aren’t with me… you died.  YOU DIED YOU BASTARD!!”  The change from passive surrender to raw and blinding fury was instantaneous and the young captain wrenched himself away from Miguel, punching the slayer in the face with all of his strength. 

His breath thundered to his ears as he grabbed for control of the situation, using his rage to anchor himself as he sent the taller boy to the ground before spinning around to face the rest of his men.

 “You died!  All of you!  You incompetent bastards!  How can you promise to be there for me when you left me all alone!”  Tears threatened to spill from his eyes but he fought them down with every ounce of ferocity in his soul, refusing to show further weakness in front of his men.  Instead, he stood there, shaking in his rage even as his eyes burned from his internal struggle, glaring at their penitent faces, each one of his men falling to their knees, their heads bowed low in shame.

“You left me alone!  You let them take me away!  There was no one!  Where were you?!”  He was shrieking but he didn’t care.  Several of them were slapped hard but he wasn’t even paying attention to which faces bore the bright red print of his hand.  All that mattered was proving to himself that they were real, that they felt his wrath and understood the weight of their crimes.

He wanted to beat them down, make them suffer as he’d suffered, but as quickly as his rage had taken him over; it flowed from him, stealing his energy with it.  Dimly he was aware that he was sinking down to his knees with a heartbroken moan, his own head nearly touching the floor as he struggled to contain his suffering, feeling as if his insides had been hollowed out with rusted daggers.  The feeling was so intense that he actually brought a hand to his chest, pressing down just to ensure that his torso remained intact.

Be strong!  Pain was nothing, loss was nothing.  He was the perfect warrior and was the master of his own body, not some weak and useless thing!  Slowly, he drew a deep breath in then let it out, struggling to hold onto some shred of control. 

Every muscle vibrated with tension as he waited to hear the screams, to smell the liquid metal burning as it vaporizing the bodies of his friends… his family.  Instead he only heard the soft scrape of an armored boot on the ground and the wonderful smell of Miguel’s flesh as icy cold arms held him once more.  Dilandau was trembling and though he knew Miguel felt it, the slayer said nothing.

“Our bodies are gone Lord Dilandau.  We can’t be with you as we were, but we’re still here with you.”  Gatti spoke; his voice was soft and carefully modulated the way it always was when he was dealing with one of his leaders fits.  “We wanted to reach you, to protect you, but we couldn’t do that without your help.  We’re not strong enough without you.” 

“Then get stronger.”  Dilandau growled from where he clung to Miguel, a hint of his indomitable spirit returning along with his anger.  “I will not tolerate weakness in my unit.  Weak warriors are useless and Zaibach doesn’t tolerate useless things.” 

Off to the side, he heard Guimel give a light chuckle of amusement at the familiar mantra he’d heard repeated hundreds of times during his life.  Dilandau fixed him with a furious glare thinking that death had clearly made the curly haired slayer suicidal.  How dare he laugh at his leader!  How dare he not tremble at Dilandau’s feet!

“We’ve always been there sir.  We’ve been watching, calling to you, trying to help.”  The soon to be dead ghost chimed in with a grin, daring to raise his head from the floor and look at his leader in the eye. 

“We just needed you to reach out to us, to shatter the barrier and lead us off the path of the dead.”  Shesta finished for him, also looking up.  The sheer audacity of their actions left Dilandau speechless, giving them the time they needed to let their words sink into his stunned mind.  For several moments, he simply glared at them murderously for their boldness, his hands clenched into tight fists. 

One by one, the others raised their heads to watch him and he noted that there wasn’t any hint of defiance in their eyes, only deep fathomless adoration.  The kind that could call them back to the land of the living in order to protect the one they loved.

“Reach… out?”  He struggled to make his mind grasp at the meaning behind their words, feeling almost as if he was speaking to Folken because of all the vague insinuations rather than simple plain speech.  “You mean I’m the one making myself hear you die over and over?  I’m torturing myself with your deaths?”  The very idea of this was so offensive that it almost sparked his rage all over again.

“No!”  Gatti spoke up quickly, shifting on his knees to move closer to his leader, reaching out a gloved hand to lightly touch Dilandau’s arm.   As with Miguel, he could feel the bone chilling cold of his touch but refused to pull away in response.  “No… that’s us and we’re sorry for that.  Your pain calls to us, your turmoil.  We try to reach out to you… but there was something missing and we couldn’t connect.  Now we can.”

Utterly confused now, Dilandau looked at each of them in turn, trying to make sense of his words and convince himself that this was simply some new facet of his madness.  Any minute now, the flames would rise up and consume them all.  They’d die in front of him, again and again until he couldn’t remember anything but their final moments.

“We felt your suffering, your fear… We felt… Him.”  All of a sudden Dilandau’s blood turned molten in his veins.

“Van.”  The word was a snarl so full of hatred that flames flared around them, marking each place where one of the Dragonslayers had fallen to the raging king.  In stark contrast, the captain’s eyes glowed energist red.  His beautiful face twisted into something monstrous and for a moment it seemed that he was about to lose himself to a murderous rage.  Before he could act on it, a terrible realization filled him, quelling the fire in his eyes and he let out a strangled cry of utter suffering, pushing Miguel away once again.

“No!! I saved him!”  Dilandau screamed, clutching at his head, his fingers squeezing mercilessly at his skull.  “Why did I do that?  He killed you!  He murdered you right in front of me and I saved his life!  He deserves what the Madoushi would do to him!”

“Stop it Sir!”  Miguel’s strong hands grabbed Dilandau and gave him a sharp shake, stopping the hysterics before they could gain momentum.   In life, his lover would never have been so bold as to shake him let alone raise his voice in command.  It seemed that death had emboldened the slayers as a whole.  “It was war!  If he hadn’t killed us, we would have killed him.  We understand that.  So long as he never raises his sword against you we hold no grudge and neither should you.  What happened had to happen sir.  If it hadn’t, you never would have been able to turn into that girl again… you would have been executed.” 

“W…what?  What are you saying?  You want me to be that stupid girl?”  He was too shocked to be angry at his subordinate ordering him around.  Disgust and horror filled Dilandau’s voice so utterly that Miguel couldn’t help but smile at him gently, reaching up to boldly stroke a silver lock of hair from his captains eyes.

“Gods of Gaea no.”  He breathed, a gentle smile lit up his handsome face.  It was the smile that always made something melt deep inside the proud captain and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of it.  “You’re absolutely perfect just the way you are and none of us ever want to see you change, but Destiny had to play out.  You had to escape those damned sorcerers and you had to escape from the victors of the war.  Yes, we died and we all wish we hadn’t so we could spend even a single moment more with you, but our deaths opened up a door that the Madoushi had locked.  In the end, however painful, it saved you and that made everything worthwhile.”

“But I saved him… I betrayed your sacrifices!”  He didn’t want their forgiveness; his harsh cruel life hadn’t gifted him with the ability to understand such altruism.  Accusations, screams for vengeance and demands for retribution were what he expected in this sort of situation… if one could really expect anything from ones dead soldiers returning from the grave. 

One of those cold hands gently strokes his jawline, the familiarity of the touch had been missed so keenly that it made him almost sob as Miguel drew closer, his lips brushing gently across Dilandau’s.  It was so tender, so achingly perfect that he barely noticed the strange coldness radiating out from the touch, chilling him down to his bones.  Crimson eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the caress, parting his lips to welcome his lover’s tongue, desperate to taste his flesh after being denied for so long.

Rather than deepen the kiss, Miguel reluctantly pulled away, a look of pure sorrow on his handsome face.

“I can’t… if I touch you for too long… I don’t know what it will do.  I’m not part of your world anymore and you can’t make a lover of death.”

“When have I ever given a rat’s ass about the rules?”  Dilandau snarled, grabbing his slayer by the front of his uniform and kissing him back hard, for once not caring that the others were all there watching.  What did it matter?  They’d seen him cower in fear on the battlefield; they’d seen him shake and tremble like a scared little girl.  Hells, they’d seen him AS a girl.  What did one little breach in etiquette matter at this point?

For the first time ever, one of his slayers denied him, and Miguel pulled away.  Strong hands grasped the captain by his shoulders, holding him at bay.  The look on his handsome face could break hearts, had that heart belonged to anyone but Dilandau.  Instead, the albino dealt with his obstinacy the way he handled everything else.

He punched Miguel hard enough to knock him back down to the ground, fixing him with a glare that warned him not to dare get up unless he’d come to his senses.  Once he was sure that Miguel was properly cowed, he turned his gaze on the others, daring even one of them to challenge him or offer any refusal to his requests.  He was their leader, their personal god and he wouldn’t tolerate any defiance to his supreme authority. 

The brief out letting of violence helped him regain his composure, the familiarity of knocking over one of his slayers served to ground him.  Seeing all of those worshipful eyes staring down at the floor subserviently soothed his anger and with every breath, he calmed down a little more.  He did however allow himself a small sense of relief at seeing Miguel roll neatly to his knees, looking none the worse for wear.

“Good to have you back sir.”  Gatti murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he stared obediently at his leaders boots.  Rubbing his knuckles in a rather satisfied manner, Dilandau rose gracefully to his feet and looked down at his men, radiating his easy confidence once again.

“Right… good to be back.  Now…Tell me that I heard you wrong.  You want me to play nice with the runt king? After all that he’s done to us?  No, I say that now that we’re together again, we strike first and destroy him before he gets a hold of that damn demon armour.  It will be easy.”  Dilandau allowed himself a moment to indulge in a bloodthirsty grin as he rubbed at his scar, ignoring the surreptitious looks the slayers exchanged with each other.

“Actually sir…”  It was Shesta who dared to look up, ready as always to take the brunt of the bad news.  “We want you to keep to your truce.”  An alabaster finger paused in mid stroke on the scar, digging into the sensitive flesh slightly as crimson eyes narrowed dangerously.  Oh this was simply too much.

“What did you just say?”  His voice was low and dangerous, warning of repercussions far worse than a simple slap.  Ghosts or not, the slayers looked nervous now.  They knew what that the look in his eyes meant and all of them cringed slightly despite their already dead state.  Surprisingly, despite the immense risk they faced, brave little Shesta pressed on just like he always did.

“Something’s coming… we can feel it building.  You need him and he needs you.  You’re tied together in this and to sever that tie will doom you both.”

“Speak plainly before I beat the words out of you.”  No matter how much he loved and missed his slayers, it was too easy to fall into old habits.  For their part, his men looked far more comfortable dealing with homicidal Dilandau than a mentally shattered one.  This was familiar ground for them all, a sense of normalcy in a world gone mad and everyone clung to it tightly.

“We don’t know any more than that.”  Dallet finally spoke up, his voice soft and somewhat nervous.  “We’re trying to learn what we can, but… things are clouded.”

“So help me if you tell me that it’s obscured by the shadow of a dragon I swear I will find a way to murder you a second time.”

“No! No nothing like that… I think… I hope.”  The brunette continued, eyeing his leader warily, trying to gauge his reaction to less than favourable news.  “We’re looking into it, trying to learn more, but it might take some time.”

“He means that there’s strange new souls on the path of the dead.  It’s hard for us to talk to them since we haven’t given up our mortal anchor yet… that would be you sir.  But sometimes they can hear us… sometimes they’ll even talk to us.”  Shesta butted in quickly, wanting to calm Dilandau before his patience grew too strained.  “That’s where the others are, trying to learn what they can.  When we have something, we’ll share it with you.”

The others all nodded their heads in agreement, rising to their feet and staring at Dilandau with all of the adoration and hero worship which bound them to him even after death.  The looks on their faces was enough to mollify their captain in regards to their rising without his permission.  Besides, his mind was currently still tumbling over what they’d said earlier.

“You want me to be friendly with the bane of my existence?”  The albino was having a great deal of trouble accepting this as at all possible.  It went against everything he knew, everything he felt!  Miguel smiled at him playfully and gently cupped his cheek one more time, love radiating out of him as he stared into his captains eyes. 

“You seemed to be having no trouble being … friendly with that fool Schezar’s man.  I’d almost say that you seem to have a thing for Astorians sir.”  There was no malice behind the words.  Even in life, Miguel had long ago been resigned to his lovers wandering attention.  Rather than growing jealous and bitter, he’d chosen to settle for knowing that he alone held the captains heart.  No matter where his lover wandered, he would always return to the slayers arms.

“Saw that did you?”

“Oh yes.”

“He’s Fanelian.”

“That’s not a step up sir.”

“Fuck off Miguel.  Celibacy is for priests, not for me.”

“All of the holy orders rejoice in the face of your rejection sir.”  Dilandau couldn’t help but laugh at the playful barbs being tossed back and forth.  He’d missed them all so much and though he knew that they were about to leave, he desperately wanted them to stay.  They were a team and belonged together forever.

“Please promise us that you’ll hold to the truce sir.”   Gatti spoke up, resigned to likely getting slapped.  “It’s important.  You need to stay calm, and you need to work with him no matter how much you want to kill him.”  A silver brow arched up in warning at the words.  At least this time he held off his anger, more curious than furious with the obscure statement.

“Why?”  He pressed, not in the mood to play word games anymore, not when his time was so limited.  The slayers all shared another secretive look, as if they were worried about sharing too much information with him.

Before they could answer, Miguel was jerked backwards violently.  His hands grasped at Dilandau frantically before he clutched at his throat, clawing at the delicate skin which seemed to be compressing from some unseen force.  Veins bulged and tendons strained as the Dragonslayer struggled to free himself from the crushing force, his lungs straining to draw in air through his ruined windpipe.

“MIGUEL!”  Dilandau screamed, grabbing for him, not comprehending what was happening.  Unlike before, his hands passed through the other boy as if he wasn’t there.  Those beautiful steel grey eyes stared into his even as his mouth gaped open like a fish and the captain tried to grab him over and over, refusing to accept his failure to protect his friend.  “Miguel!”  He repeated the name over and over; panic filling his voice as he saw the love and forgiveness in those fading eyes.

Legs kicked out as the handsome youth struggled for his life but his invisible assailant continued to strangle him mercilessly.  Zongi!  Realization filled the albino and with a vengeance filled yell, he drew his sword and stabbed at the air above the dying slayer, desperate to dislodge the intangible doppleganger before it was too late.

“Don’t you dare die on me Lavariel!  That’s an order dammit!  Don’t you die!”

“There’s nothing you can do sir.”  Gatti said softly, sorrow filling his voice.  “We have to return to the path the same way we got there originally.  Please… close your eyes and cover your ears… we don’t want you to witness this.”

“Like hell I’m going to sit back and watch you die!  I failed you once, I won’t do it again!  Miguel!  Fight him off!  Zongi you coward!  Face me if you dare!  I’ll turn you to paste a second time you disgusting freak!”

The doppleganger never showed himself and despite his frantic attempts to save him, Miguels struggles quickly ceased.  After long agonizing moments, he slumped down to the ground, his eyes staring sightlessly into space before his body faded from sight.

Dilandau screamed out in loss, grabbing at the ground where his lover had lain, calling out his name over and over again as if repetition would bring him back.

“You can’t stop what’s already happened Lord Dilandau.  We made this sacrifice willingly, but our love will always call us back.”  Gatti smiled down at him, the look on his face was heartbreaking and realizing what was coming, Dilandau reached out for him, determined to save what was already doomed.

Before he could touch his second in command… his best friend, he saw Gatti’s skull cave in on itself.  He saw the blood and brains spray out as liquid metal rushed in from the unseen Alseides he rode.  Blue flames consumed him almost instantly, devouring his dying body before the slayer could even register what had happened.

All around him they were falling, one after another, cut in half, stabbed, split in two by the massive unseen sword of Escaflowne.  Those hungry flames filled his vision, devouring them eagerly as they all called to him with their final breaths until he knelt there all alone on an empty plateau, calling out their names to the wind.

 

Dilandau awoke with a scream, the names of his slayers on his lips.  His trembling hands reached out into the darkness of the room grasping at nothing and hot tears blurred his vision as he realized that it was already too late.

“Miguel… Gatti…Sheta, Dallet…”  The usually silken voice was broken with emotion and he felt strong warm hands wrap around him, pulling him close.  For a moment, he wasn’t sure who was touching him and panic filled him, tensing his muscles as he prepared to lash out violently.

“Shhh Dilandau, it’s ok, you’re not alone.  I’m here.”  A deep voice murmured in his ear, familiar and comforting.  There was no judgement in that voice, no sound of disappointment over his weakness.  Only a gentle concern that made him sob softly as he felt loathsome tears trail down his cheeks, soaking the arm beneath his head.  He tried to stop them as he had before, but his body was too worn out, his will spent.  Each one felt like a deep betrayal as it slid down his cheek and he waited for the punishing pain to start, to hear the voices berating him for is weakness.

Instead, strong fingers stroked through his hair with aching gentleness and that deep voice continued to murmur softly.  The words were more repetition of the same thing, barely understood in Dilandau’s tormented state.  Still, they comforted him on a basic level even if they did little to alleviate the terrible sense of loss that left him feeling gutted inside.

Gaddes held the boy tightly, feeling the violent tremors tearing though the slender body in between those soul wracking sobs.  It still shocked him to see how deeply emotionally dependant the fierce warrior had been on his fallen men.  How deep did the scars on his already damaged soul go?  Would he ever heal from those gaping wounds or was he forever cursed to relive that terrible battle every time he closed his eyes?  Only a couple of weeks ago, he’d have said that it was justice and too light a punishment for someone who’d caused such horror in his short lifetime.  Now… now he wondered if there was even a single moment where this pale beautiful warrior wasn’t suffering.  No wonder he wanted to die when so much of his life was nothing but torture. 

It made him want to be an island of comfort in this sea of horrors that constantly tried to sweep the boy away, but Gaddes had no idea how to offer anything more than temporary reprieves. 

Still, it was a good sign when Dilandau curled against him, taking the darker man’s arms and wrapping them around him comfortingly before twisting around to face his lover, burrowing his face against Gaddes’ chest like a child in their mother’s arms.

“I woke you up.”  He murmured softly and might have sounded apologetic if it had been anyone other than the brat.

“I don’t mind.”  Gaddes whispered, cupping the youth under his chin and tilting that lovely face up so he could look into those beautiful ruby eyes.  The tears made them even brighter and he’d never seen anything as heartbreakingly beautiful as the look of utter trust and loss on Dilandau’s face. 

Bending his head slightly, he placed a gentle kiss on that pale forehead, feeling smooth skin, damp with sweat beneath his lips.  “I’m here for you whenever you need me, no matter the time.  You never have to be alone if you don’t want to be.”  The second in command had no idea when he’d suddenly developed this romantic hero streak.  That was usually Allen’s job, but dammit if the kid didn’t make him want to run out and slay dragons for him.  It didn’t matter that the kid could do the damn job himself in half the time, the desire to protect comfort and inspire were still there.

That last word made him smile slightly with its realization.  He wanted to inspire the kid; to make him take notice of his actions and see that there was still something here to live for, someone to live for.  While he wasn’t sure where this surge of loyalty had come from, he couldn’t deny it and honestly didn’t want to.  Six colours ago he might have gladly slit the little monsters throat open if given even the slightest chance of winning, but now… now he’d do just about anything to earn one of his beautiful smiles.

Damn if he didn’t suddenly feel like he understood the Dragonslayers and their fanatical devotion to their leader.  Granted, they likely had never held him in their arms as he sobbed his heart out, but honestly, considering the scars on his body, they just might have.  Even now, holding the beautiful youth and gently rubbing his back with one of his hands, he could feel a fine network of scars on his skin.  Practically invisible to the eye due to his colourless pigmentation, the faint ridges told of a lifetime of suffering and he ached to ask him what had caused them.

“Will the others come?  Do you think I woke them up?”  Dilandau wasn’t meaning the words he was asking.  Gaddes knew that what he was meaning was _will anyone come in and see us like this?_ Whether his concern was over others seeing him without his fierce and fearless masks in place, or seeing their naked bodies intimately entwined on Gaddes’ bed was anyone’s guess.  Likely the first seeing as how the older man knew that the kid couldn’t care less if people knew of their relationship.  Jeture, he’d likely find the resulting chaos to be hilarious.

“I don’t think anyone will come.  They know I’m here with you.”  And they’ve been trying to ignore your nightly scream fest for the past two and a half weeks; he refrained from adding.

Those crimson eyes looked into his and for a moment, Gaddes saw them shine with complete trust before Dilandau ducked his head back down and snuggled closer.

“Did you mean what you said?”  He asked softly after several long moments of silence, sounding so young and hopeful that it threatened to break Gaddes’ heart.  “That you wouldn’t leave me alone?”

“Every word.”  The older man promised, once again bestowing a gentle kiss to that silver haired head as slender arms wrapped around him, squeezing him gently.

 

***********************

 

Van wasn’t in a good mood, but he was quickly coming to the belief that this was going to be his default emotion for the foreseeable future.

Despite his utter exhaustion, he’d woken up several times during the night, confused as to his surroundings and having to remind himself that he was on the Crusade, in Allen’s room, in Allen’s bed… best not to think about that one.  At least the sheets had been cleaned recently, he didn’t want to even think about what had possibly gone on in this bed previously.  The man’s reputation was nothing short of legendary and Van really didn’t want to catch anything.

Merle was still curled up in a tight ball next to him; her breathing was deep and even though she showed no signs of stirring.  Her fur was plastered with various poultices that Teo had made to deal with the many little infections from her previously untended wounds.  Coupled with the many bandages for her cracked ribs and a broken tail, she looked like she’d survived a war. 

Gently, the young king reached over and stroked those velvety soft ears of hers, noting that they didn’t even twitch at the touch.  It was going to be a while before she was up on her feet again and longer still before she was racing around being an utter nuisance.  At least Teo had promised that she’d make a full recovery from her ordeal though Van still felt terrible that she’d taken the brunt of all of the violence rather than himself.  It made him feel like he’d failed his duty as her protector.

His stomach began to growl insistently as he lay there, warning him that it was time to get up and deal with the world.  Maybe he’d grab some sausages for Merle to eat, if he could get her to wake up long enough to do so.  So far she’d just been licking dispiritedly at bowls of medicinal broth and it worried him.

Stretching, he carefully got out of the bed and arranged the covers around the sleeping cat girl before bestowing a gentle kiss on her head.  At least Allen’s room had its own shower and Van quickly washed up and changed into the cast offs of the crew, fully aware that nothing even remotely fit him.  The belt around his waist had to have new holes drilled into the leather, the trousers had been hacked off at mid shin and he’d simply cut away the sleeves on the old blouse he wore rather than have them flop over his hands continuously.  Still, he looked more like a child playing dress up with their parent’s clothes than the king of a country and war hero.

Opening the door was a bit of a shock as he saw Reeden leaning back on his chair right outside in the hallway, his feet propped up on a pipe as he flipped idly through a rather picture filled book.  The crewman grinned sheepishly and quickly snapped the book shut, but not before Van noticed that several of the pictures were utterly inappropriate… not to mention likely anatomically inaccurate.

“Van!  You’re up!  Great!  I was going to knock on the door in about five minutes to let you know that breakfast was going to be served.  Good timing.”  As he spoke, the book was stealthily moved behind his back, making the king suddenly more than a little curious as to what exactly it was.  Of course, he had far more important questions requiring answers right about now.

“Why are you sitting outside my room?”  He kept his tone level and the question politely phrased though he was more than a little insulted at being treated like a royal prisoner.  How had everything changed so drastically?  Oh wait, he knew exactly why.

To his credit, Reeden looked downright ashamed at having to explain his actions to his ally and he had more than a little trouble meeting those large accusing brown eyes.

“Er… well…. Given your histories with each other…”  Van held up a hand, cutting the man off in mid-sentence, sparing them both the humiliation.

“Does he have a guard as well?  Or is he allowed to run wild on the ship the same way he seems to be with my country?”  The crewman winced at that and gave a nervous laugh as he fiddled with the edge of the bandana around his head.

“Yeah, he’s being watched as well and is likely even less thrilled about it than you.”  He chuckled.  “So far the count is four broken bottles, a knife in the wall and three dented doors.  But hey, the day is still young.”  It disturbed Van that the crewman didn’t sound at all upset over the random violence, instead he sounded almost… proud?  Rather like a father of a far too precocious child.

“How are you all fine with this?”  Van had to take a moment to struggle to find the right words to express his shock.  It was surprising enough to see Gaddes acting like the monsters best friend, having Allen suddenly defending him was just jaw dropping.  Now… now he finds that the rest of the crew seemed to be in on this strangeness as well?  It was mind boggling, making him wonder if he’d somehow been transported to some mirror world.  Any moment now, he half expected Emperor Dornkirk to flounce by while wearing Summer Festival robes.

It must have shown on his face because Reeden gave him a friendly laugh and patted the stunned king on the shoulder.

“We were like that too when the Boss first told us that he’d be part of the crew.  I don’t think anyone slept a wink that night, especially Gaddes and Kio, they have to share a room with the little bastard.  But… somehow it’s all worked out.  The kid’s saved our lives a few times and you sort of have to admire his “Fuck the rules” spirit.”

His smile faded quickly beneath Van’s glare.  The young king most decidedly did NOT admire Dilandau’s spirit, especially his utter lack of disregard towards law, civility and sane behavior.  Maybe if they’d all spent the better part of a year having crima claws and flames thrust into his face every time they turned a corner then maybe they’d be a little more hesitant towards counting the monster as one of their number.

“Yes, I’m sure he’s a delightful person once you get to know him.”  Van growled under his breath.  “What’s a little wholesale slaughter of the innocents between friends?”

“Aw, don’t say it like that Your Majesty.”  Reenen murmured softly.  “We’re all trying here to make the best of a bad situation.  Sure the kid’s got a temper and is about as high strung as they come, but he’s decent enough.  He even holds sparring classes on lunch break.  Sure... it’s mostly a chance for him to beat on us with impunity, but we’re learning quite a bit.  You should take a look at it…wait… no, no you shouldn’t.  Forget I said that.  The Boss wants the two of you on separate sides of the ship during the classes.”  The crewman sighed and shook his head in exasperation, hating having to juggle his various allies around each other.  “Just… pretend he doesn’t exist and if Jeture hears our prayers, he’ll do the same.  It was a rough night last night, so his temper will likely be crappier than usual.” 

Normally the crew took a sort of perverse amusement out of the pale captain’s tantrums, knowing that they were the problems of the Boss and Gaddes, but the prospect of being there when Van was in the room made for a rather volatile situation.  They’d all heard the screaming in the early hours of the morning and had steered clear of the cabin.  Kio had gone so far as to pull a double guard shift, stating that he’d sleep during the day when no one needed him.  Reeden couldn’t blame him, he’d found the pilot bunked out on the bridge most mornings trying to get a few hours of decent sleep.

“So, breakfast?”  He smiled hopefully at the king and gave a relieved smile at the nod he received.  Personally, he was starving and had heard that Riom was serving up some stewed grouse that the villagers had given them.  It had been simmering since last night and had smelled amazing back then.  He couldn’t wait to taste it now.

 

The mess was packed full of crew, all fighting for space at the table as Riom bustled about in an official manner, ladling out the stew into everyone’s bowls while fresh baked bread steamed enticingly from baskets.  It was rowdy, busy and about as far as one could get from genteel civility as possible. 

With that in mind, it was surprising to see Allen seated at the head of the table, neatly breaking his loaf of bread in half and buttering it with dainty sure strokes of his knife.  He was doing his best to ignore the worst of his crew’s behavior and wishing that he’d instead broken his fast in his cabin as usual, but it was occupied and honestly, the idea of the two nemeses being in the same room at the same time was something he felt required his supervision.

“So then he runs up the damn things back, clinging there like some deranged monkey and I don’t know who was more surprised, myself or the dragon.”  Dilandau’s voice carried easily over the din and Van s eyes immediately snapped to him, loathing how comfortable he looked at the table.

The albino was dressed in cast off clothing much like himself, only he had the height to pull it off with grace, especially with that exotic colouring of his.  As with the day before, he was dressed simply in a short sleeved shirt which clearly was not astorian made, that long hooded jacket and leather trousers.  Those odd goggles were pushed up onto his forehead, taking the place of the golden diadem and a rather soft looking scarf coloured in jewel tones was wrapped around his throat.

Unlike Allen, the zaibach captain was making a point to eat exactly like the crew, breaking off chunks of bread and dipping them into the stew, using it as a sort of spoon and washing the mess down with the large cup of small beer by him.  The main difference between him and the men however was that the warlord only spoke once his mouth was empty and there was an economical neatness to his movements which spoke of a lifetime of instilled table manners currently being ignored.

Even as the king watched, he noticed that his enemy was very pointedly not looking in his direction at all and it left no doubt in the monarchs mind that the Zaibach captain knew that he was there.  Instead of reacting violently as expected, he seemed to lean over the table a little more, gesturing with more energy and generally making it more and more obvious that he was a part of the crew, not Van.  It was a subtle line drawn in the sand, a marking of his territory and Van felt something tighten in his guts as he realized that for once, he was the outsider amongst his allies.

“To be fair, I think that I was pretty damn surprised too.”  Gaddes butted in with a grin, earning himself a round of delighted laughter and several mugs being thumped on the table in encouragement.  Dilandau even allowed himself a grin and nodded his head happily.

“In all my hunts, I’ve never had anyone steal a dragon’s attention like that.  I was right in the middle of taking the damn things face off, and it just stops dead and looks over at its back like it had no idea what was going on.  Granted, it was good thinking and I got a rather nice shot at its chest because of that.”  The albino tipped his cup in Gaddes’ direction before taking a sip.

“You seriously did that?” Reeden asked as he happily wandered into the room to join the group.  “Kio had mentioned something about it last night but I’d thought that he was just screwing with me.  Damn, I’ve never even seen a dragon up close let alone ridden on one.  What do you think Van?  Ever ridden on one?”

The room fell utterly silent as every eye turned to look at the young king who continued to hover by the door.  He wanted to just slink away and not be part of this cruel game that Dilandau was playing, but as he glared over at the albino, he saw the sly smirk on the other boy’s lips and knew that he was just waiting for the king to stomp out of the room like an ill-mannered child.  He wanted Van to be the bad guy here, to show that he was every bit a barbarian as his superior look implied.

Never one to back down from a challenge, especially from this most hated foe, Van strode boldly into the room, noting that the crew made room for him at Allen’s left hand, the right of course was reserved for Gaddes.

“No, I can’t say that I have.”  He admitted as a bowl and mug were immediately placed in front of him.  His brown eyes met crimson and held the icy glare with them, daring the other boy to look away first.  “But then again, I hunted my dragon alone.  It required more cautious tactics.”

“Oh I agree fully.”  Dilandau drawled, his smile was wide and filled with challenge.  “I hunted my first dragon alone when I was twelve and I have to admit that it was quite a challenge, but well worth the victory don’t you think?  Still, I preferred doing so in a group.  I’ve hunted seventeen dragons all together, two were solo kills.”  He took a long sip of his small beer, those eyes still never having left Vans.  “Apologies, eighteen now.  How many have you killed Your Majesty?”  The title sounded utterly mocking flowing off of that vile tongue and Van found himself clutching his mug with far more force than strictly necessary.

“One… I’ve hunted one.”  He growled softly, loathing the way the pale freak seemed to brighten at that pronouncement, as if he’d just one some great victory.

“Oh… well you’re young yet.  At least you’ve managed to kill more than Folken.  He only succeeded in making sure they were well fed.”  The glass cracked in Van’s hands and Allen looked down the table at his brother, blue eyes narrowing in warning.

“Dilandau, this is hardly appropriate breakfast conversation.”  The knight stated in a tightly controlled voice.  Naturally, this earned him little more than a bored roll of the eyes as the teenager in question leaned back in his chair, the perfect picture of youthful insolence.

“Apologies Sir Allen. Feeding brothers to dragons is clearly more of a lunch conversation.” The poisonous politeness as well as the implied threat was noticed by all though no one commented on it.  “What would be suitable for breakfast conversation in Astoria… hmmm.  Ah, commerce!   Gaddes, have you heard of the rising tariffs against the price of silk coming in from Freid, it’s positively criminal I tell you!  However will I manage to replenish my wardrobe for the winter festival season?  I swear that next they’ll be telling us to simply wear wool like the peasants!  It will be revolution in the streets at this rate!”  He grinned widely at Allen then took a sip from his mug, holding onto it as if it were a proper wine glass at a fancy dinner party.  “Better?  No?  So then, back to the dragon!  There I was trying to get the damn lizards attention back on me and what does this maniac do?  He stabs the thing in the eye!  It shrieked so loud that they heard it from miles away.  You heard it didn’t you Your Majesty?”  Again, the use of his title sounded utterly mocking, as if he was pointing out the very fact that he’d been the one to burn down Van’s country and reduce his family throne to ash.

“Don’t call me that.”  The young king found himself saying, managing to silence the table once again though he hadn’t raised his voice.

“Well then what shall I call you?  Schezar was most insistent that I address you appropriately.”   The smile dared him to say anything that would let his enemy add fuel to the fire he was carefully stoking, and now Allen had ceased even the pretence of eating and was glaring at his brother, looking less than pleased.  “We had a rather lovely discussion regarding it.  I mean, your title really is all you have left isn’t it?”

“It’s more than you have.”  He shot back, brown eyes narrowing and now it was his turn to smile as he saw the barb hit home.  Dilandau’s smirk faded away instantly and several of the crew drew their chairs back, not wanting to be caught in the impending explosion.

“You’re right.”  Something glittered in the depths of those narrowed crimson eyes, making them seem to glow with an eerie light as he glared at Van.  His voice was low and sounded calm, but everyone in the room could feel the storm brewing beneath it.  “You’re very right Van Fanel.  You took everything.  You were the hero of the story and I was the villain.  Did it feel good to cut down my friends?  Did you hear their screams as you sliced them in half?  Did their blood wet your cheeks?”

“Dilandau….”  Gadden gently rested his hand on top of the young captains, ready to stop him if he tried to draw his sword, hoping that Allen was ready to do the same for the king.

“I saved your life Van.  You’re alive because of my direct actions.  Never forget that I was the one who chose to save you.  That was a choice you the shining hero never gave to my men.  An action you never took with me.”  The smile was back but no one at the table was fooled by it.  They all saw the knives behind it and Van felt the hair on his arms rise up in response.

“So keep looking at me like you have been _Your Highness_.”  He all but spat the title.  “Like I was some vile and sickly animal better put to death than be allowed to continue to plague this world.  Your life is in my hands right now and your fate will hang on my decisions soon enough.  I’ve already shown what side I’m on in this fight.  All you’ve done is spout out accusations.  Figure out your priorities soon because I have fifteen friends who are dying to spend time with you.”

“Is that a threat Albatou?”  Van growled ominously.

“Draw your sword and find out.”  Dilandau snarled back at him. 

“That is quite enough!”  Allen stood up, instantly commanding the attention of everyone in the room as he glared at the two teenagers balefully.  “Dilandau, you have work to complete don’t you?  I would suggest you get to it seeing as how you’ve been pushing me so hard to move at a quicker pace.  Van, please sit and eat your meal then we will go see how Merle is doing.”  Neither suggestions were requests and both youths knew it.  They also both looked perfectly ready to argue the orders but Gaddes stood up from the table and motioned for Dilandau to join him.

“Come on.  Let’s get your hunk of junk in working order.  It’s been gathering dust for too long.”  He smiled at the young captain who still appeared to be ready to argue.  “Maybe we can even talk the Boss into sparring with you in Scheherazade.  It will be just like old times… only with less fire.”  That seemed to get Dilandau’s attention and he glanced at the knight for confirmation.  Reluctantly, Allen had to agree in order to keep the peace, inwardly cursing Gaddes for this suggestion.  While he was sure he could still defeat the young captain, it wasn’t the sort of fight he was looking forward to, not with the boy still acting so volatile.  Still, it seemed to do the trick and Dilandau nodded his head, favouring Allen with a challenging grin before walking out of the room without a second glance.

Van watched him go, his hands still curled tightly into fists as he silently wished for something heavy and fatal to fall on the albino.  How dare he accuse him of being the bad guy here!  It’s not like he had a choice when fighting the Dragonslayers.  They wouldn’t have backed off even if he’d given them the option.  Dilandau had simply been too obsessed to consider loss a possibility and it had been HIS decision to start that final battle, not Van’s. 

He stared down at his stew, suddenly not feeling very hungry at all and doing his best not to notice how everyone in the room was still watching him.  Did they believe Dilandau’s claims?  Was he being too harsh with his allies and treating them all like the enemy? 

“So… what’s the plan Allen?”  Van’s voice sounded tight and angry as he broke his bread and dunked it into the stew, determined to eat just to spite his enemy and prove that he wasn’t upset by his words.

“Honestly that depends on if you two can work together to any sort of degree.  Right now, I’m not finding the results to be at all encouraging.”

“That’s not my fault!”  Van shot back, slamming his fist down on the table.  “You heard him egging me on!”

“Yes I did.  I also noticed that not once did he actually reach for his weapon or threaten violence on you.  You on the other hand rose to his baiting every single time Van.  Now I know that Dilandau was rude, arrogant and could try the patience of a holy man, but he had a point, even if it was delivered as undiplomatically as possible.  Our lives are about to depend on each other.  We have to have some level of trust between us and until you figure out how to do that, it might be safer to simply drop you off back in Fanelia.” 

“How?”  Van found himself asking, looking not just at Allen but at the assembled crew who still watched the argument in silence, none of them even touching their food.  “How can you all support him knowing who he is… what he is and what he’s done?  He could kill you all and not feel a single shred of guilt over it.  You all know this!”  He looked at the assembled faces of his old allies and felt his stomach clench in dread as one by one, they seemed to deny his words.

“Van.”  Allen spoke up gently.  “I won’t argue with you if your mind is already made up but we all trust him.  Not because of what he did in the war but because of what he’s done since.  He’s saved lives, acted… if not always honourably, in our best interests and he’s openly stood against soldiers of Zaibach.  He’s had ample opportunity to kill us all and run but he’s still here and we are all still alive.

“You and Hitomi stood against Emperor Dornkirk in the zone of absolute fortune and wished for something better than war and hatred.  You wished for love and peace for Gaea.  Why are you so quick now to deny someone a second chance?  Doesn’t Dilandau get a chance at redemption?  He lost everything as you said.  Even his life was taken away from him in the end.  Just as Fanelia is rebuilding from the ashes, let him do the same.  Both could very well become stronger for it.”

“I already said that I’d hold to a truce.”  Van snapped angrily, loathing how Allen’s words made sense… or at least they would if they were meant in regards to anyone other than that monster who’d epitomized all of the worst aspects of the war.  “I didn’t draw my sword either.”  Allen smiled at him, it was the sort of smile a rather frazzled older brother might give to a sibling after a long and trying day dealing with them.  There was love in it, loyalty, and beneath all that, the desire to perhaps toss them in a sack and drown them in a lake just for some peace and quiet. 

“Yes, I know and I respect that Van, I really do.  I know that he’s not about to make this easy on you, he does the same with me so I know exactly what you’re going through.”  He sighed softly and Van began to wonder if perhaps the sack and the lake possibility weren’t being aimed at him.  “For him, the war only ended two weeks ago.  He has no memory of any time passing while he was Celena.  All in all, his turnabout has been nothing short of miraculous.”

Van wanted to argue but he found that without the albino there to egg him on, the anger was simply too difficult to hold onto.  He’d been through too much in the past few days… the past year.  All he wanted was peace for himself and his friends.

“How can you trust him?  Don’t give me the crap about him saving your lives.  He could easily be doing that simply for his own motives.  Why do you trust him?”  He stared into Allen’s eyes, wanting an honest answer that didn’t involve fancy stories or the fact that deep down inside, the man’s sister was trapped beneath that demon’s skin.

Allen held Van’s gaze unwaveringly and actually gave him a faint smile filled with impossible sadness and hope.

“I trust him because if I don’t, who will?”  He spread his hands slightly in an expansive gesture.  “If I don’t make the effort, why should he be anything but the monster the Madoushi made him to be?  Why should he aspire to be anything but a soulless weapon?  You gave him the chance to be so much more than that Van, you and Hitomi.  I want him to have that chance just as much as I wanted Celena to have it.”

“I can’t forgive him for what he did.  He took too much from me.”  It was Van who broke the gaze first, staring down at the table top, his voice soft and filled with pain, though for the first time since his arrival, the accusation was missing from its tone.  “I’ll never forgive him, but I’ll give him a chance to create something new.”

“That’s all I ask Van.  Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dilandau isn't having a good day. First ghosts giving him attitude, then Van being mean to him. Can the two of them actually get along for more than five seconds in each other's presence? Will they just say screw Gaea and duke it out once and for all? Will Gaddes be jealous of his little snookums trying to snog dead Dragonslayers? Muahahaha.
> 
> Next episode!: Van and Dilandau try to be civil with each other and a field trip erupts into violence!


	18. If you go into the woods today, you're in for a big surprise...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van and Dilandau prove that they can't even pick flowers without there being problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or its characters. I'm not making money, I work for Kudos.
> 
> There is sex, violence and harsh language here. Beware!!

                “Look, either you tell me where you bastards hid my old uniform, or you find me appropriate leathers to wear while piloting.”  Dilandau snapped not bothering to look up at either Gaddes or Katz as he made a show of examining his drag-energist for any imperfections.  As expected, it was perfectly flawless, the grooves along its surface forming elaborate fractal channels which Folken would no doubt have explained at length about how they facilitated the channeling of energy or some such nonsense.  All the dragonslayer cared about was that there were no obvious cracks or chips along its surface which might have been acquired after its extraction.

                “Even if we had your armour… which we don’t, we couldn’t give it to you and you know that.  Jeture’s balls kid, you even agreed with us as to why.”

                “Yes.”  Dilandau conceded in an absent tone of voice.  “But that was before I had acquired a guymelef.  And I know you have it tucked away somewhere because you’re all terrible liars.”  He favoured them both with a cool glare before climbing up the leg of the Alseides, choosing to disregard the fact that there was a ladder conveniently nearby specifically for this purpose. 

                Both men watched as the boy easily scurried up the massive machines body with only one hand, the other clutching the precious stone.  Neither spoke a word, fearful that any distraction might make him miss a handhold and plummet to the floor and a messy death.  It wasn’t until the albino was perched securely by the chest plate and tapping in the elaborate code that would open the cockpit that Gaddes spoke again.

                “We can get you some leathers.  Hell, I’ll even have someone in the village tailor the damn things for you so you can feel all pretty or whatever.”  He was willing to say anything at this moment to alleviate the bad mood that breakfast seemed to have put the boy in.  Not that he entirely blamed the youth, Van had said some rather harsh things, though in the king’s defense, Dilandau had been utterly deserving of several of those barbs.  At least the meal had been violence free, though he wasn’t willing to put money on that being the norm.

                “Feel pretty?  I’m bloody gorgeous and you all know it.”  Dilandau flashed the two men a wicked grin from his perch.  Gaddes felt his cheeks redden while next to him, Katz huffed softly, allowing himself a hint of a wry smile.

                “This ain’t a fashion show kid.”  He cautioned.  “What’s wrong with the clothes you’ve got?  If this is some stupid Zaibach regulation about uniforms, we’ve got some bad news for you.”  They watched as the cockpit hissed open, revealing the claustrophobic interior filled with buttons, switches and more little lights than either man knew what to do with.  Rather than hopping in and making himself at home, the young captain leaned against the edge of the cockpit and smiled patiently down at them in a superior fashion.

                “The leathers I have are too worn.  I need new specially treated leather that will allow the crima metal to slide off of it rather than either clinging or being absorbed.  Neither are pleasant and will result in the clothes being destroyed, not to mention the clothing fibers could disrupt some of the circuits.” 

                Neither man understood enough about the strange technology of the fallen empire to be able to dispute the youths claim, though both supposed that it made a certain sort of sense.  Also, Gaddes could tell that the brat wasn’t about to be budged from his decision.  Not that he minded, he rather liked the idea of seeing that slender body tightly encased in piloting leathers similar to his old uniform.  Perhaps he could talk him out of those horrible spiked shoulder pads and into something more flattering.  In fact, entirely shoulderless would be a rather nice option.  He’d definitely enjoy seeing that milky pale skin contrasting with dark leather any day of the week.

                “Alright.”  Katz conceded while Gaddes was busy imagining the young captain with the metallic sheen of crima metal sliding over his body.  “You mentioned treating the leather.  What do you need for that?”

                “You see, that’s where we hit a bit of a snag.  I need to go out and gather the items.  I should be able to find all of it in the forest nearby.  You guys just have to cover for me for a day so Schezar doesn’t find out.”  That snapped Gaddes back into reality and his somewhat wistful smile became a rather stern frown.

                “Hell no.  You’re not setting foot off this ship again in the foreseeable future without all of us on hand to make sure you stay out of trouble.”  That was it; he had to put his foot down.  The kid was simply getting too bold in his actions and too reckless.  They’d gotten lucky that no one had been hurt on his latest stunt or that they’d found and rescued Van Fanel of all people but even a chronic gambler would know that now was the time to fold the cards.  The odds were going to catch up to them and hit them hard.

                Clearly not pleased with this answer, Dilandau frowned down at him and despite the height difference, he could see the challenge glittering in those crimson depths.  Gaddes mentally said goodbye to his chances of getting laid tonight but refused to budge on the matter.  Allen was already mad at him over the Fanelia stunt.  He wasn’t going to cause his best friend anymore grief than he already had.

                “It all turned out fine Fanelian.  If you keep worrying like that, you’re going to get grey and wrinkly.”

                “Yeah? At least I’ll be alive to enjoy it.”  Gaddes shot back even though inwardly, he did agree that no matter how reckless the kid was, he was certainly fun to hang around.

                “How about you tell me what you need and I’ll see about finding them?”  Katz cut in, wanting to keep the peace as much as possible and seeing yet another argument brewing.  He watched as Dilandau grinned arrogantly down at them and crossed his arms over his chest.

                “Sure.  I need at least three decent sized brains, milar leaves, some fianna sap, fruit from a lartal tree, not sure what you call them in this country, venom sacs from a ruby tree snake, bone marrow and some assorted mosses.   That’s just for starters.  Shall I continue?”

                “You are NOT using human brains on your clothing!”  Gaddes sputtered, hoping desperately that the kid was simply trying to scare them into acquiescence. 

                “Then find me my old uniform.”

                “No”

                “Then you’d better sharpen your sword and go headhunting because I’m not risking a short when I’m up in the air or in the middle of combat.”  Katz rested a hand on Gaddes’ arm before the darker man could open his mouth to retort with a less than constructive insult regarding the mental health of Zaibach and its leatherworkers.

                “Do they have to be human brains?”  He asked in his usual calm voice, watching the albino through his lashes.  Katz had gotten used to Dilandau’s word games over the past few weeks and knew that despite his tendency to mislead during conversations, he rarely outright lied.

                Realizing that he’d been caught out, Dilandau simply grinned at the blonde and tilted his head in acknowledgement of the other man’s victory.

                “No, deer will work fine, so will cow or whatever is killed for the leather, but it needs to add up to the same volume so it can be worked into the material properly.”  Katz nodded his head and shot Gaddes a measured look, silently warning him to stop immediately jumping to conclusions when it was obvious that the kid was just playing with them.  The second in command didn’t need to look over at his friend to know that he was getting that look, he could damn well feel it and honestly, he knew that he deserved it.  When the hell would he learn?

                “Look, I can’t stay cooped up in here.”  Dilandau surprisingly was the one to break first and he looked down at Gaddes with wide pleading eyes, attempting to take advantage of the soft spot he knew the man had for him.  “Let me go out and get the ingredients.  I’ll behave.  No killing I promise!  I won’t even maim unless it’s in self-defence.”  Neither man looked overly moved on his behalf despite his grandiose pledge and the young captain grit his teeth in frustration.   “The only reason I’m stuck in this damn ship is because of that messenger right?  Well he’s still bedridden, so what’s the harm in me going out into the woods for a few hours?  It’s not like he’s going to be wandering around the forest trails.”

                “I’ll go with him.”  All three sets of eyes opened wide in shock as everyone stared at Van who stood at the doorway to the hangar, his hand resting on his sword.  He’d changed back into his familiar red shirt and tan trousers after the disastrous breakfast, glad to find that they’d been patched up and washed.  No longer would he feel like a child playing dress up.

Katz had to blink a few times, his eyes not used to being open so wide and Dilandau was struck momentarily speechless.  It was Gaddes who finally broke free first and took a few steps towards the Fanelian king, moving cautiously after such an insane announcement.  Who knew what the king might have eaten to put him in such a strange state of mind.

                “Er… While I’m sure you have the best of intentions Your Majesty…. Hells no.  Ten thousand hells no.  Remember the part where you two hate each other and would love nothing better than to skin each other alive and decorate your guymelefs with the others guts?”  He could easily imagine Dilandau coming back with one brand new shiny brain for his leather and one less king to worry about. 

                Van ignored the second in command and instead stared up at Dilandau who was standing on the edge of the cockpit, energist in hand and still obviously too surprised to do anything more than gape.

                “Drag-energist.”  He noted absently at the large stone in the albino’s hands.  “Convenient for you.”

                “Yes…. Well, the dragon wasn’t using it anymore…”  Dilandau sounded off balance as he stared at the king, trying to figure out his angle.  This was all most likely some less than intricate ruse in order to get the captain alone for some final battle between them in order to restore his honour or some such stupidity, but Van was still honourable.  Short sighted, pig headed and as clever as a toddler, but honourable.

                “Er… Van…” Gaddes hedged nervously.  “While I’m all for peace between the two of you, I don’t think the two of you heading out into the woods together to slaughter fuzzy animals is a good idea.”  He couldn’t quite keep from wincing as those large brown eyes fixed on him coolly.  Dammit, why did all the teenagers around him have to be so damn intimidating?  If the cat girl started freaking him out, he was resigning.  It just wasn’t fair.

                “Allen said that I need to give him a chance.”  He replied calmly, his hand reaching up to touch something beneath his shirt.  Gaddes couldn’t see what it was, but he figured it was likely that strange pendant Hitomi had always carried around.  Rumour had it that she’d given it to Van before leaving. 

Those brown eyes met his with unwavering certainty, as if this all made perfect sense to him.  “So rather than spend weeks glaring at each other and having stare downs and fights which put stress on the crew, we’ll go out into the woods, put our trust in each other and see if we both come back alive.”

                “You two can’t even eat breakfast together without it becoming a betting event.  What makes you think we’re letting you two run wild out there?  Why would you even want to leave the ship knowing that people are out looking for you?”  That last questions seemed to pop into his head as one of the biggest red flags of the moment. 

                Granted, he seemed to remember that Van couldn’t even stay in a damn room when asked.  Was it really so surprising that he’d refuse to stay put in a ship despite the threats against him?  He’d taken on Zaibach repeatedly and won, what were a few dozen heavily armed mercenaries?

                “Merle needs some medicine and I think I know of a few plants that might help.”  The young king finally admitted somewhat bashfully.  “I was on my way out when I heard you guys arguing and thought that I might as well kill two birds with one stone… so to speak.

                “If Van is allowed to leave then I should be allowed to leave.”  Dilandau piped up, flashing the older men a wide grin that promised nothing but trouble. 

                “Van doesn’t have a price on his head that rivals the debts of most countries.”  Gaddes shot back, fully aware that he was losing this battle.  Naturally, Dilandau didn’t look the least bit concerned.

                “The villagers have seen me and thanks to this cunning disguise… and their utter lack of significant intelligence, no one has recognised me.  Nothing’s changed other than you r level of paranoia.” 

Katz clearly had had enough and he rolled his eyes, returning to his usual comfortable squint as he leaned over to Gaddes.

“I’ll talk to the Boss, you keep minding the children.  Who knows?  It just might work out, it’s been a few minutes and neither one has so much as sniped at the other.”  He kept his voice low so neither teenager would hear the shot at their ages.

“Why am I stuck looking after them?”  Gaddes protested perhaps a tad louder than intended seeing as two suspicious sets of eyes now focussed on him rather specifically.

“The kid listens to you on occasion, which is more than he does with any of the rest of us.”  The blonde smiled at Gaddes, gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked past Van out into the hallway to find their leader and tell him the… questionable news. 

Gaddes looked first at Van, then up at Dilandau, still perched on his death machine and holding his energist.

“Tell the truth.”  He finally sighed.  “This is all some plot to give me an ulcer isn’t it?”  Van dropped his eyes to the floor, still feeling guilt over his previous actions regarding the man and how quickly he’d jumped down his throat.  Dilandau on the other hand simply smirked playfully.

“If I wanted to give you an ulcer old man, I’d find much more amusing ways to do it.”  Gaddes didn’t bother challenging him on that front.  He had no doubt that the words were truly spoken.

“Just power up your damn toy.  It’s making me paranoid having you perched up there like a damn bird.”  He snapped at the albino with mock hostility and was given an even wider grin in answer.

Dilandau slipped inside the cockpit and fiddled around with some panels, sliding them aside and appearing to practically crawl into the shoulder of the Alseides.  He really hoped the kid hooked everything in right because he didn’t think that he could handle seeing that damn hunk of junk burst into blue flames with the brat trapped inside.

“You guys are really going to let him power that thing up?”  Van spoke up from right next to him, having stepped into the hangar while he was distracted enjoying the view of that lovely ass wriggling enticingly as the brat worked his way into the shoulder passage.  Thankfully, the king sounded more resigned than angry.

“He saved my life with that thing already.”  Gaddes admitted.  “At great risk to his own seeing as how it wasn’t functioning properly.  So yeah, we’re letting him power it up.  If he pulls any stunts, we have Scheherazade on hand to stop him before he gets too carried away.”

“And Allen can stop him?”

“He has so far.  The kid might chomp at the bit, but he’ll stop when ordered to.”  Gaddes glanced over at Van out of the corner of his eye.  “How about you?  Will you stop when ordered to?”  There was no need to mention that the last time he’d seen Van fight, he’d nearly tried to kill Allen in order to murder the incapacitated Dilandau.

He evidently wasn’t the only one to remember that moment because the king’s dark skin flushed a deep crimson from shame and he stared at the floor for a long moment.

“I gave my word to give him a chance.  I’ll hold to it… but honestly Gaddes… has he changed?”

“Are you asking me if he’s repentant?  Or if he’s a totally different person from the war?”  Brown eyes met grey and held the gaze, demanding honesty with the answers.  Taking a deep breath, Gaddes broke the stare and looked up at the hulking guymelef.

“Repentant?  No.  I’m not even sure if he’s capable of that but that doesn’t mean that he’s incapable of change.  As for the rest of your question, I can’t answer that because none of us really knew him.  We only saw him in battle against us and that never shows you what a person is like, only what they’re capable of.  We never asked why he was doing what he did, what he thought about his orders or tried to understand the boy behind the crimson Alseides.  There had to be something there though.  Look at how deeply his men loved him.  Devotion that absolute isn’t easily won.  Those kids never flinched at any or his orders and didn’t back down even at the very end.  All they cared about was protecting him from you.”  A sad smile tugged at his lips as he watched a faint crimson light spark deep inside the shoulder of the guymelef, warning that the connection had been established successfully.

“I’ve spent a lot of time with him since he came back.”  Gaddes continued; his voice gentle and perhaps a tad fond.  “I’ve seen a person who’s been through absolute hell and back for most of his life but no matter how many times he was kicked down, he got back to his feet and kept on fighting.  I’ve met a young man who is cautious around people, distrustful and yes, violent especially when he feels that he’s been provoked, but once he’s given his loyalty to someone, he’ll risk his life without hesitation to protect them.”  Glancing down at the king, he noted the thoughtful look in those dark eyes and felt a slight stirring of hope.

“That dragon would have killed me you know.  I was down on the ground and stunned when it started to breathe.  I heard Dilandau shriek at the thing and next thing I knew, he was charging it like a madman even as the beast’s chest lit up with flames.  I thought I was going to see him die in fire, but as the dragon opened its mouth, he drove his sword right into its brain.  If he’d been even one instant slower, hesitated for even a heartbeat, he’d have died and so would I.  But he didn’t and we both lived. 

“I have no doubt that he’d have done that for any of his Dragonslayers, but to do that for me... To risk his life for a former enemy meant a lot and was nothing like what I’d come to expect from the monster we’d fought in the war.  But what do I know?  I was the enemy during the war and never had a chance to see if maybe he was that selfless in battle.  Allen might know, they were in a few campaigns together before everything fell apart.  I can only tell you what I’ve seen, and I’ve seen that that act wasn’t an isolated incident.  There’s a reason the crew trusts him now and it’s not because of tricks or pretty words.”  

Van was honestly surprised at the sheer verbosity behind the man’s answer.  He’d expected a simple yes or no reply, not an impassioned speech.  Gaddes was rather protective of their former enemy and he had to admit to being curious as to what had inspired this apparent loyalty between the two.  Maybe someone in the crew could tell him, there really were no secrets on the Crusade.

Any further thoughts were put aside as Dilandau reappeared in the cockpit and hit a few buttons, causing the machine to hum rather ominously with life.  Despite the reassuring words from Gaddes and Allen, Van still found himself tensing, expecting a crima claw to be shot at him at any moment.  Instead, the guymelef powered down and Dilandau slipped somewhat reluctantly out of its chest.

“Not taking her out for a test drive around the hangar?”  Gaddes called up playfully, earning himself a bit of wistful laughter in return.

“If I do, I’ll want to take it outside for a test flight and if I do that Schezar really will kill me.  I’ll behave for now that way he has no excuse to back out of our sparring match.”  Crimson eyes looked over at Scheherazade’s seated form eagerly and Van knew that he was licking his lips in anticipation of the fight.  “Besides, like I said, I can’t flood the cockpit while wearing these clothes and I don’t intend to pilot this thing naked.  There are some places one doesn’t need liquid metal.  Get that image out of your head you pervert.”   

In all his life, Van never expected to hear such easy banter come from that homicidal maniac.  It… it made him seem almost human and was utterly at odds with the beast who laughed as Palas burned, egging on the flames and screaming for more death.  Maybe everyone was right and he had to separate these two aspects of the Zaibach warrior in order to move forward.

With graceful movements, Dilandau hopped down from the machine. Landing on the floor of the hangar lightly and walking over to Gaddes, full of swagger.  There was an odd glitter to his eyes that caught Van’s attention, but he couldn’t see it clearly without staring, though it was more than a little unsettling.

“So, are we ready to go?” 

“We’re just waiting for Katz to get back with Allen’s permission.”  Gaddes had to bite back a smile as Dilandau rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Oh yes, let’s not take a single step without my dear brother’s permission.  I’m surprised you don’t ask for his approval to take a piss.  Is there a problem Van?”  Crimson eyes focussed on him and Van had to fight to keep from getting his back up.  The question hadn’t been asked in any antagonistic tone, it had been a simple question and wholly deserving of an answer.

“I… It’s just odd hearing you call him your brother.”

“That is the proper term.”

“But you’re not really-”  He was cut off by a sharp look from the albino and an abrupt wave of his hand.

“Don’t you dare imply that I’m not human Van.”  Dilandau warned in a low voice, that glitter returning to his eyes, reminding Van of activated drag-energist.  “I might be the product of the Madoushi’s experiments but I still have a family.  This flesh no matter how altered was born from a mother’s womb just as much as it was from test tubes and wires.  I have a brother who acknowledges me.  I had a mother and a father just like you.  I might not remember them, but they existed.  If you can’t see past that then we’re done here.” 

“I… sorry.”  Van apologized before he even realized that he’d uttered the words and it was surprising to realize that he actually meant them.  “It will take some getting used to.  I see you as two separate people.”

The dangerous light faded from those eyes though Dilandau’s posture remained wary.

“We are.  We just happen to share a body.”  Gaddes watched the exchange between the two, ready to step in if need be but deeply thankful that they seemed to be somehow keeping it civil despite that near misstep.  Still, he really hoped that Katz returned quickly.

“Can… can you hear her?  Can you feel her inside you?”  Van pressed, suddenly filled with a thousand questions he’d never thought he’d ever get the answers to.  A silver eyebrow rose up slightly though whether it was in surprise or amusement it was impossible to tell.

“That’s a rather personal question don’t you think?  One doesn’t usually begin a conversation by asking about the voices in a person’s head.”  Gaddes had to bite back a laugh at that, recognizing the teasing tone even as Van ducked his head again, stumbling over his manners like an awkward teenager.  “And no, I don’t feel her or hear her.  If I did, this whole thing wouldn’t have come as quite such a shock to me as it did.”  The smile grew a little wider and a little more teasing as Dilandau leaned forward, edging into the king’s personal space.

“Since we’re jumping right into the personal questions, I have one for you.”

“I suppose I owe you one, ask away.”

“Do you not own any other clothes?  I’m positive that’s the same damn shirt you were wearing every single time I saw you.”  Van’s face turned as red as his shirt and he sputtered for a few moments as he struggled for an answer.

“You wore the same thing during the war too!”  He shot back childishly, fully aware that he wasn’t helping himself at all.  Dilandau smiled smugly at the statement and put a hand on his hip.

“Yes, it was called a uniform.  I was required to wear it while on duty, but I assure you, I had several of them.  You seem to have only the one outfit… or is that the Fanelian royal court garb?”

“I didn’t exactly have time to pack when Fanelia was attacked.”

“And in the whole year the war took place, you didn’t find a single tailor?  I mean sure, red is your colour, but that’s putting a lot of mileage on a single garment.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, but Gatti brought it up once and it’s been bugging me ever since.” 

“Gatti?”  Van regretted the question the instant he asked it as he realized who that likely was.  Dilandau looked away from him, choosing instead to study his guymelef as if it suddenly had done something to attract his attention.

“My second in command.  He was also the sixth one you slaughtered.”  It was said so dispassionately and distantly that Van knew it was agony for the young captain to remember.  Unsure of what to do in the wake of the guilt which suddenly welled up inside him, he opened his mouth to apologize, only to be interrupted by Dilandau holding his hand up for silence.

“Don’t.”  He said, turning to look back at Van, that alien glow back in the depths of his eyes.  “Don’t you dare apologize for what you did to him.  Don’t cheapen his death with your guilt.  He deserved better, they all did.”  Dumbfounded by the statement, Van could only nod his head, trying to understand the mind behind those strange eyes and the madness which powered it. 

Feeling that the conversation had reached its end, Dilandau turned and walked away, heading back to his guymelef to tend to some minute adjustment, or at least pretend to while he fought for control over his raging emotions.  Unsure of what to do, Van continued to stare at him, realizing finally just what Gaddes had been saying about the depths of the Dragonslayers emotions.  He wasn’t sure he liked dealing with this new… human Dilandau.  It was much easier to hate the taunting voice behind the crimson armour rather than the pale and wounded soul standing in front of him now.

“See what I mean?”  Gaddes murmured glancing over at the stunned king.  All Van could do was nod in agreement, unsure as to when the rug of normalcy had been yanked out from beneath his feet.

 

 

“So… what sort of plants am I looking for?”  Katz looked around the forest; unsure as to how the hell he was supposed to tell one leaf from another.  Everything looked the same as far as he was concerned and he was rather sure that he was allergic to something in the forest because his hands were starting to itch rather fiercely. 

“They have three leaves on a stem with orange spots by the center vein.”  Van stated for the third time, glancing at the bundle that the blonde crewman had collected and frowning slightly.  “Er… you might want to put those down.  They’re toxic.”

“But they have orange like you said!”  Katz dropped the leaves as if they were burning hot and rubbed his hands on his trousers, hoping to wipe off whatever poisons he’d gotten on his skin.  He was going to die out here, he just knew it.  Van smiled faintly and motioned the crewman towards the shallow stream they’d just crossed, urging him to wash his hands clean.

“Not that bright an orange and only on the center vein.”  He paused and picked one of the specified leaves, showing it as an example.  It was obvious that Katz had no real clue as to the difference.  “How about I pick the leaves and you hold them?”  The king finally suggested, earning a grateful smile from the older man.

“Sure, yeah, that would work nicely.  I’d hate to be killed by a damn flower.”  The blonde allowed himself a slightly self-depreciating smile before looking over at the somewhat distant figures of Gaddes and Dilandau who were gathering their own plants and apparently arguing over a patch of mushrooms.

“Thanks for making the effort to get along.”  He glanced back at Van while splashing more water on his hands, imagining all sorts of horrible fates should he not get rid of all traces of whatever mysterious toxin he might now be wearing.  “The Boss was really surprised that you suggested this.  It means a lot to him.”

“What, that I don’t try to kill Dilandau?”

“That you are trying to accept him.  He’s the only family the Boss has left, and honestly, I don’t think he expects to see Celena again after what happened.”  The man’s smile faded and he splashed more water on himself.    “He didn’t want to choose between the two of you and that’s why he didn’t tell you.  I think… I think he was scared that you’d demand Dilandau’s life for his crimes.  Even the kid figured that you’d have him executed, I think he still does really, you know, once all of this is sorted out.”

“So, you’re saying that I should watch my back?”  Katz looked up at him, his eyes opening for a moment and Van could see the sadness in their depths.

“No, I think he’s counting on it.”

“What?”  That didn’t make any sense at all.  Dilandau wanted him to demand his death?  Taking his time straightening up, Katz gave the two distant figures another look, making sure they were out of earshot before speaking.

“I was there guarding the door that first night when he woke up.  He tried to kill himself, to stab himself in the heart.  Gaddes stopped him, but that wasn’t his only attempt.  There have been others, enough that Allen has made sure that he’s never left alone.  I think that’s one of the reasons he saved you.   He wants you to finish what you started and let him rejoin his team.”  The words chilled Van to the bone and he couldn’t help but look over at the apparently heated argument over those damn mushrooms, watching as Dilandau kicked the tops off so several of them and stomped away in a huff, leaving Gaddes to scramble after him, not willing to let whatever the argument was rest.  He certainly didn’t look like someone who wanted to end it all.  Weren’t they supposed to be morose and withdrawn?

“He almost never sleeps, did you know that?”  Katz continued softly.  “When he does, he always wakes up screaming… always.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  Van finally asked, feeling worse with every word the blonde spoke.  He had no idea how he was supposed to react to this.  Normally the idea that his worst enemy wanted to remove himself from the face of Gaea was a good thing, but something inside him felt sick at the thought.  He might have no problem ending the albino’s life if provoked or during the course of battle, but the idea that the other teenager might be seeing him as nothing more than an instrument of his own death was unsettling.

“Because one day he’s going to put the dagger in your hand and offer his life to you and I want you to know that even if he doesn’t understand it, there’s people here who would grieve for him.  The Boss would be destroyed… so would a few others.”

“I’m not a murderer.”  Van insisted, doing his best not to remember the screams of kids his own age echoing out of those guymelefs as they burst into flames.  How he’d delighted in hearing Dilandau’s own frantic cries for his men, not understanding how they’d been lost to him forever.

“I know you’re not Van.  Don’t let him make you into one.”  Katz offered him a faint smile and looked back at the plants, scowling as if they’d somehow personally insulted him.  “So, how many of these things do we need, and what exactly will they do?”

Van felt a nearly overwhelming sense of relief at the change in conversational topic and he eagerly latched onto it with near frantic desperation.

“They’ll act like an energy boost for Merle.”  He explained.  “She’s suffering from a vitamin deficiency from the infections and needs a boost to her immune system.  The poultices will help with the infections themselves, but her body is exhausted and strained to its limit.  This will get her back on her feet and at least eating properly so she can recover faster.  It’s an old Fanelian cure Folken told me about.  He loved stuff like that.  He’d always talk about how Gaea provided for our every need, we just had to explore her mysteries to find the treasures she offered.”

The king smiled at the memory of better times… innocent times before everything had fallen apart.

“He knew so much about plants and minerals and how they affected a body.  Knowledge meant everything to him.  Sword fighting was something he avoided whenever he could, instead he’d always be in the library, learning all of these amazing things that he’d tell me about.  Really, it’s amazing that I didn’t follow in his footsteps… but after he vanished, I couldn’t really bring myself to go back into the library.  It held too many memories of him and I had too many responsibilities.

“You know, Teo could likely use some help if you wanted to learn more about medicine.  He’s no Folken, but he’s a smart guy.  Besides, it would give you something to do while we’re en route to Astoria.”  Finally deciding that he was clean of possible poisons, Katz finally walked away from the stream and began looking around for more likely candidates for picking, this time deciding that simply pointing them out would be safest.  “Besides, if we’re really going after Basram, we’re going to need more people with some medical knowledge.  We won’t always be lucky enough to have Princess Millerna showing up in the nick of time.” 

Van had to smile a bit at that, remembering the feisty princess who could switch between prim and proper noble to stern faced intellectual at the snap of a finger.  He hoped that Dryden knew what he was getting into marrying the woman, but so far it sounded like they were complimenting each other rather well.  The man himself was rather brilliant but Millerna kept him grounded and focussed.  Once they formally ascended to the throne, Astoria was likely going to be the most powerful nation in Gaea; a fact which was likely going to spark a whole new set of problems for the royal couple.

“Hey guys!”  Gaddes called from across the creek.  “His paleness is insisting on looking for some sort of fungus in a shady area so we’re going to head a little deeper into the woods.  We won’t go too far but we’ll likely be an hour or so considering how picky he seems to be about things.  Are you guys good with that?”

“We can come with you if you want.”  Van replied, having no problem with looking in a different area, the plants he needed were rather hardy and could grow anywhere.  Gaddes waved his hand negligently at the offer and grinned.

“Nah, you guys take it easy, I’ll chase after the brat.  If I’m lucky, I might even be able to talk him into pausing in the great mushroom hunt to eat some lunch.  One of these things has to be edible in a non-hallucination inducing way.”  Both Van and Katz had to laugh at that and they waved the darker man along his way, happy to be able to continue their conversation without having to worry about setting off any volatile tempers.

The young king enjoyed working with the stoic blonde.  He wasn’t a man of many words, but he had a calm demeanor and sort of reminded him of a younger more contented Folken.  It was calming being around the man and really, he found that he really needed that calmness right around now.

“Do you ever talk to her?”  Katz asked after about half an hour of silent pointing out of plants and resulting picking.  Van glanced up from the bundle he was examining for parasites.

“Her?”

“Hitomi.  Do you have ways to talk to each other?  Or is she really gone?”  He looked genuinely interested rather than simply making small talk.  At the sound of her name, Van felt a lump in his throat and his hand went up to squeeze the pendant gently in his hands.  Taking a deep breath, he found that he had to swallow twice before trusting his voice to speak.

“Sometimes… when the Mystic Moon  is especially clear I can hear her as if she was standing right next to me.  She tells me about her life and her world sometimes.”

“You don’t sound happy about that though.  Is she alright?”

“Yeah…” Van nodded his head slightly and plucked absently at a leaf.  “Time… it flows differently between our worlds.  She tried to explain it to me once… something about when the Draconians created Gaea and how our worlds are in slightly different dimensions even though we can see hers.  It’s really confusing.”

Katz paused, looking at him confused but sensing the pain behind his words.

“How much time has passed?”  He asked cautiously, not sure he was going to want to hear the answer.  Hitomi had always been that pretty scrawny girl with the ferocity of a lion.  He’d never seen a girl with her determination and willpower before and several of the men were positive that she had to be a boy in disguise, or else the women of the Mystic Moon were terrifying to behold.  Actually, that might explain Zaibach’s attitude towards the fairer sex seeing as how they had such strong connections to the strange world.

“Hitomi… she’s married now… she said that five years have passed… at least they had the last time I talked to her.  He… he sounds like a great guy and I wish that I could be jealous of him… dammit, ok, I’m jealous of him, but I know that it’s impossible to have her live here.”  He stared at the ruined leaf for a moment, realizing that he’d torn the poor plant to pieces as he’d spoken.  “I just… I think that somehow deep inside I always pictured her as my queen.  It’s sort of strange, at first I could barely stand her.  She was so mouthy and opinionated that I sort of wished that I could just leave her alone in a room and forget about her… but she was so brave too and she had such a caring spirit.  She was the only person I ever met who would cry for the loss of enemy lives as much for those on her own side.  If it hadn’t been for her, Gaea would have been lost… I would have been lost.”

Sighing, he let the ruined leaf fall from his fingers and looked over at the blonde crewman.

“I wonder what she’d think of this mess?”  He smiled gently to himself and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.  “She’d find a way to see the best in the situation and would pull out that damn deck of cards and say something cryptic about what Basram was up to.  We’d all look at her like she was crazy even as we raced around, trying to figure out all of the connections and still be blindsided when everything blew up in our faces.  But Hitomi… she’d stay calm through it all and point the way out of the mess.”  A grin spread across his face and he found himself chuckling in amusement.

“I’d love to see her deal with Dilandau.  She’d see right through all of his bullshit an give him a healthy dose of reality… likely a good slap in the face too and you can’t tell me he doesn’t have a few of those coming.” 

Even Katz found himself chuckling at that thought.

“He’d spit and snarl at her, likely throw every insult he could think of at her, and she’d look at him like he was acting like some kid having a tantrum then say something prophetic that would shut him up faster than a kick in the nuts.”  The blonde stated.  “But yeah, I agree, the slap is also likely.”  Both men looked up at the sky for a long moment.  It was too early to see the Mystic Moon, but they knew that soon enough it would dominate the sky with its shining blue presence.

“Have you thought about talking to her about this mess?  She might know something that could help us.  The Boss is grasping at straws right now and while we have some prisoners, they don’t know anything.  Honestly, the kid’s gotten us almost all of the information we have… and you don’t want to know the methods he used.  Trust me on that one, I helped bury the body.”

Van shuddered, knowing all too well just how ruthless Dilandau could be when he was fixed on a goal.  There was no doubt in his mind that if there was even a chance that one of the prisoners might have information, the Zaibach captain would tear them all apart to learn it.

“I… I can try once the Mystic Moon rises.”  He hazarded cautiously.  “But I’ll need to talk to Allen first and find out just what he wants me to ask.  We can’t talk for very long, its tiring for both of us.”  There was no need to state that the strain was more emotional than physical.  He’d already revealed far more to the crewman than he wanted to.

“Hey, anything helps right now.  At least we have a name and a country to aim her at.”  Hopefully that would be enough, though inwardly, Van dreaded the heartache he knew that he’d be feeling in a few hours.

 

***************

“Yes!  Right there!  Don’t you dare stop!”  Dilandau gasped, utterly oblivious to the way the tree bark ground into his back, his jacket providing only minimal protection.    He could feel his climax quickly approaching and it was taking every bit of his fraying willpower to not scream out his pleasure to the world.  Slender fingers clutched at the branch overhead, holding himself up while his legs wrapped around his lovers body, urging him deeper with every press of his calves.

Everything felt so perfect, so utterly amazing that every synapse in his body was starting to fire.  It filled him with liquid heat which grew with every harsh thrust of Gaddes’ hips until the youth had to bury his face against his lovers shoulder to muffle his screams.

“Stop!?”  The darker man gasped, giving his hips an even harder thrust, driving himself deeply into that incredible tightness and thrilling at how perfectly Dilandau’s body squeezed him, seeming to try to hold him inside even as he drew out for another sharp drive of his hips.  “There’s no way I’m going to stop.  You’re amazing!”

His hands reached down to up the silken soft skin of his lovers flawlessly rounded ass, shifting his hips slightly in order to hit that perfect spot deep inside the youth that made him go absolutely wild.  Knowing that his cries could easily carry in the relative quiet of the woods; he seized those delectable lips in a fierce kiss.  It was absolute bliss, drinking in the screams even as his hips began to pump faster and faster, ruthlessly pushing the albino into a blistering climax.

The tree itself was groaning with the force being pushed against it and several leaves fell around them gently as their joined bodies spasmed violently against each other and Gaddes let out a shout of ecstasy of his own.  His vision went white even as his loins grew molten, bursting with the built up energy of a raging storm inside that slick heated passage as it constricted in the most amazing way.  This was better than any treasure, any grand adventure or perfumed wench.  He’d never in his life dreamed of such dizzying pleasure as what he found when buried deep inside this perfect pale body.

Both were lost to the world for several long moments, panting rapidly as their bodies quivered against each other, sweat glistening on their skin wherever it was exposed.  Neither had removed more clothing than they needed to in order to couple, the desire had seized them both too quickly and powerfully to bother with anything beyond the necessities.

Slowly, they sank to the ground, Dilandau straddling Gaddes’s hips, their bodies still intimately joined as the pale youth bestowed gentle kisses on his lovers bruised lips, his smile full of sated satisfaction.

“Mmm I should let you do me against trees more often.  That was fun.”

“Heh, not for the tree, I think we traumatized a few squirrels too.”

“Then they shouldn’t watch.”  Dilandau chuckled, nuzzling along Gaddes’ neck, the tip of his tongue flicking out playfully to taste his sweat slickened skin.  “Still, I don’t like having to be quiet.  We should sneak out later tonight and fuck under the stars like beasts.”  He grinned wickedly and gave his hips a little wiggle, making Gaddes gasp loudly as his overly sensitised flesh protested the movement.  “Maybe I’ll even let you take me on my hands and knees.  Think you’d like that?”

Gaddes growled in response to that and bit at that beautiful pale column of Dilandau’s throat, marking the flesh still bruised from the night before.  The pale youth gasped in pleasure and Gaddes could actually feel Dilandau’s spent member stir to life once again, defying all possible logic as far as the older man was concerned.

Reaching between their bodies, he felt the slick mess bathing his belly from Dilandau’s own climax and scooped it up, using it to slick his hand as he began to massage the defiantly half hard shaft.

“How are you ready for more?  My body needs at least a few more minutes before we try that again.”  He gasped out, angling his head for another deep kiss on those delicious lips. 

It no longer felt strange to him to fondle his lover’s shaft or feel his spilled seed.  He’d quickly grown accustomed to Dilandau’s body and the differences between pleasing a male rather than a female.  He loved how responsive the teenager was to his every touch, and how eager he was to explore any fantasy the older man might have.  So far, even he had to admit that his repertoire was rather tame, but his imagination was just getting warmed up and if the kids libido continued to burn like it had been, he’d have ample opportunity to live out every possible desire.

“Sixteen years old, old man.”  Dilandau teased him cheekily before moaning softly in pleasure, his hips beginning to rock as he pressed himself into Gaddes’ hand.  “I’m… mmmm… I’m still reaching my sexual peak.”  He lunged forwards, seizing Gaddes’ lower lip with his teeth and biting gently as he moaned in pure bliss. 

Despite his earlier efforts, he could already feel himself becoming aroused once again, his aching flesh stroked by silken muscles with every movement of Dilandau’s hips.

“So… you’re saying that you’re… oh Jeture... move like that again!”  He gasped a little more loudly than he’d intended as that beautiful body moved in some impossible way, sending a bright jolt of pleasure straight down the length of his shaft.  What had previously been a groggy awakening now burst into a full and aching arousal and he gave his hips a sharp thrust up.  It didn’t matter that he was going to regret this exertion when they were over.  All that existed in the world right now was the pale figure straddling him and the bright center of the universe found between his legs.

What had been saying?  It didn’t matter.  What mattered was squeezing his hand gently around that straining flesh and stroking it until those addictive lips parted into a perfect shriek of completion.  Judging by how sharply his hips were already rocking, it wouldn’t be that far off.

Honestly before he’d become intimate with the young Dragonslayer Captain, Gaddes had had no idea that men could achieve more than one orgasm in a short period of time.  He’d learned otherwise rather quickly, but had also learned that it wasn’t without cost.  His head was already spinning as his too sensitive flesh screamed for relief, betraying itself with every wild thrust upwards.  The entire length of his shaft was quivering with every movement, threatening to explode each time he sank himself into that hot sheath of flesh and his balls were so tight that he half expected them to burst.  It was too much sensation, too much pressure in too short a time and he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs as it struggled to keep up with what his body was doing. 

This was it.  This was how he was going to die.  Honestly, he was pretty sure he couldn’t complain, so long as he got to fill his beautiful alabaster god one last time.  Determined not to go out without one hell of a send-off, he grabbed onto those slender hips and drove them down viciously even as he thrust up.  Wet flesh slapped against each other rapidly and Dilandau arched his back sharply, his eyes rolling back in their sockets even as his eyelids fluttered closed.  He was lost in his ecstasy, his mouth open in a soundless scream as his hips began to buck erratically, driving Gaddes against his prostate over and over again.  His shaft began to spurt out pearly ropes of semen, covering the tanned hands of his lover with a slick sheen.

As that silken tunnel of the gods he was buried in clenched around him, Gaddes cried out hoarsely, losing his final battle as he exploded deep into that writhing body.  His hands clenched Dilandau’s hips hard enough to bruise as he held the frantically rocking hips down tightly against his body.  It was utter perfection to feel the golden burst of his flesh spurting out its hot spray while his lover ground himself desperately against him, gasping out his name over and over in a breathy voice.

Once it was over, his every last drop milked from his aching flesh, his hands fell to his side, too tired to even stroke that beautiful pale flesh pressed so wonderfully against him.  Yeah… now he could die a happy man.

He whimpered slightly as Dilandau shifted, sliding off of him, the slightest touch to his aching shaft was a sweet agony now and even the sudden feel of air against his skin made him want to beg for mercy.  Gentle arms slid across his chest, deftly avoiding his most sensitive areas in a rare show of mercy that he deeply appreciated at this moment.

With a soft grunt, he mustered the strength from some hidden reserve to wrap an arm around the body of his lover as it pressed against his side, happy to simply lay there on the forest floor and watch the sun dance between the leaves of the trees overhead.  Petal soft lips brushed his shoulder gently before that beautiful head of silken silver hair rested against him.  Had he possessed the strength, he’d have stroked it, but that required moving, and that simply wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Think they’ll notice that we’re gone?”  Dilandau asked somewhat muzzily several blissful minutes later, giving Gaddes a faint surge of pride in knowing that he’d actually managed to tire the damn kid out.  Rather than reply with words, he instead gave another sated grunt.  Even making his tongue move was simply too much work.  Maybe in a week or two he’d be able to move again… but it was doubtful.

There was a soft chuckle of amusement from his beautiful lover and another gentle kiss, this one on his neck.

“Jeture…tell me you’re not wanting to have another go because I honestly can’t feel my legs right now.”  He found himself murmuring.  Dimly his brain was rolling around in shock at the very concept that the mouth had for some reason said no to the prospect of more sex.  Surely this was the end of the world.

The kisses were replaced by a playful bite and then a tender nuzzle and Gaddes felt the warm brush of breath against his neck.  It felt wonderful and he tightened his arm around that far too lively body.  No way had he ever had stamina like that.  It was inhuman.  No wonder the kid had felt the need for multiple lovers while in Zaibach.  It had been so that he didn’t kill any of them with his crazed libido.

“I can wait.”  Dilandau’s silken purr seemed to vibrate through him and he moaned softly in response, turning his head so that he could taste those lips once again.  Honestly, if there was ever absolute perfection in the world, it was to be found in kissing those lips.  They were beyond measure as far as he was concerned.  “But we should likely wash up a little.  I doubt we smell overly pleasant and they might wonder why we’re all sweaty.”

“Mmmm   Just tell them… you beat me up.”  He mumbled in between kisses, sucking playfully on that lovely hot tongue tip.

“Well that works for you, but why would I break a sweat?”  Oh the little bastard.  Gaddes managed to chuckle at that comment and reached over to lightly smack that perfect pale bottom in reprimand.  The action earned him a sharp bite on his lip which wasn’t wholly unpleasant.  Something to file away for later exploration, but right now, the lips was far too distracting.

“Don’t wanna move.”  The older man finally grumbled, pulling the youth a little tighter against his body.  “Let’s stay here forever.  We’ll just lie here naked, kissing and having amazing sex.  I like this plan.”  The kiss deepened as Dilandau demonstrated his approval, but it sadly ended too quickly when he pulled away, leaving a tender trail of kisses down his arm to his fingertips.

“We still have work to do Fanelian.”  He really missed it when the kid called him by his given name, but it was quickly becoming obvious that it was only to be uttered during sex.  He supposed that he couldn’t really complain, it did add a certain fascinating level of intimacy to it.

“Don’t wanna work.  Just want to lay here.  I can’t move.” 

“Well then you lay there while I wash up, but don’t whine at me when you start getting bugs crawling through that little puddle on your stomach.”  Dilandau couldn’t help but laugh as Gaddes made a face of pure disgust at that prospect and struggled to force his loudly protesting limbs to move.  As he did so, he managed to come up with several rather colourful descriptions of the brat’s possible heritage, mostly involving draft animals and garden tools.  Not that Dilandau particularly cared, he was already at the stream, peeling off the remainder of his clothes and quickly washing his glistening skin.

Admitting defeat, Gaddes finally rolled to his feet and joined him, aching with every movement no matter how slight.  Worse was that he quickly realized the stream was mountain fed and he cursed soundly at the icy cold water against his skin.  Getting bugs crawling over his slimy belly was looking better and better with every moment.  Granted, there was a lot to be said for having the chance at watching a beautifully naked Dilandau splashing water onto that pristine flesh, especially when the brat realized he was watching and began to make a bit of a show of it.  For the tenth time that day, Gaddes took a moment to thank fate for putting this perfect person in his path and giving him a chance to know him as more than an enemy.  He’d never get tired of admiring the youth and even after their exhaustive rutting, he couldn’t wait to make love to him again.  There was simply something about the kid that he’d never grow bored of and the very idea of having forever to enjoy him filled the older man with a deep thrill of delight.

All too soon, they were slipping back into their now less than pristine clothes.  Against clean flesh they didn’t feel nearly as nice, though at least they’d had a few moments to air out.  With luck, the others would be all sweaty as well from the day out in the woods and not notice.

At the sudden realization that they weren’t alone out here, Gaddes stiffened and looked around, half expecting to see Van’s shocked face staring at them from behind any given bush.  How had he been so stupid?  How was he supposed to keep this relationship a secret if he was throwing the brat against the nearest tree and fucking him silly the first chance he got?  Noticing the man’s worried looks; Dilandau chuckled in amusement and stepped forward to bestow a rather languid kiss on his lips.

“Don’t worry.  The royal runt is about half a mile that way.”  Without looking, he pointed in a westerly direction.  “Katz will be looming over him like a big blonde mother hen.  We’re all alone out here, able to do anything that catches our fancy.”

A branch broke off to their left and before Gaddes realized what had happened, Dilandau turned into a blur of motion.  There was a soft hiss, a solid thunk and a startled yelp in the direction of the original sound.  Having no clue as to what had just happened, Gaddes took a moment to blink, trying to shift his brain off of exhausting mind blowing sex, to a possible threat to his life.  Honestly, if every tryst they had outside ended in attacks, he was going to start setting traps.

“Nice try spy, but you suck at sneaking up on people.”  Dilandau hissed, sounding more than a little irate at having his fun interrupted, much like Gaddes, he was beginning to wonder if he should start setting up proper perimeters before getting laid because this was getting ridiculous. 

Whoever the unfortunate sod was, the kid’s knife had caught him just above the shoulder, pinning his jacket to the tree behind him and likely scaring the crap out of the idiot to boot.  Even now he was loudly blubbering in panic as the silver haired menace began to advance on him, pausing only long enough to pick his sword up off of the ground and draw it.

“Don’t kill him!”  Gaddes called out quickly, fully aware that Dilandau would most likely take the side of “no witnesses means no crime” in regards to his vow to not murder anyone while out picking flowers.  The order was greeted with a scoffing tsk from the youth.  He really hoped that meant that the order had been heard and acknowledged but he really didn’t have time to ask because his attention was now on the trapped interloper.

Brown straight hair cut just below his jaw, pale grey eyes and too pale skin… not to mention the fashionable cut of his clothes which was in no way suited for a trek in the woods… Goddammit!  It was the bloody messenger again!

Swearing loudly to anyone who would listen, he raced over to the struggling fool who was alternating between tugging at the deeply buried knife and staring at Dilandau’s advancing form with growing dread.  His limbs felt like lead and every movement made his knees wobble dangerously, but somehow Gaddes got there just as Dilandau was pulling the knife free from the tree and pointing it at the messengers wide staring eye.

“He’s the damn messenger from Palas.”  The second in command snapped in warning, just in case the youth decided to rearrange the idiot’s features for fun.  Honestly, at this point, Gaddes was so furious that he might just let him get a few cuts in before pulling him back.  “What in Jeture’s name are you doing out here?”  He snarled at the man in question, “There’s damn bandits in the woods you moron.  Are you trying to get yourself killed?  Why aren’t you in your damn bed healing?”

Those panicked eyes flickered from Gaddes, to Dilandau then back to Gaddes, unsure of who to be more afraid of in that moment.  It was only at that time that the darker man realized that Dilandau hadn’t had time to pull his hood up or put on the damned goggles.  He was standing there, fully exposed in front of the one man in the area who would undoubtedly recognize him and cause the most damage possible.

As if hearing his thoughts, the messenger’s eyes slowly, fearfully shifted back to the furious albino and grew wider with recognition as they took in the smoldering crimson eyes, the pale white skin and silver hair.  He could even see the minute shift as they focussed on the telltale scar marking the dragonslayer’s right cheek.

Recognizing the growing look of horror in the messengers face, Dilandau swore softly and raised his sword, ready to kill the man and preserve his identity.  The acrid stink of urine wafted up from the man, further testifying that he knew exactly who stood in front of him.

“Don’t!”  Gaddes barked out, staying his hand and earning a dark glare in response.  “He’s a royal messenger.  He’ll be missed if you kill him.”

“Better an investigation than to have this idiot confirming that I’m here.”  Dilandau countered with a snarl, his sword never wavering from its position.  “You should have stayed in bed.”  It was hard not to grin in anticipation of killing this irritating thorn in his side.  Honestly, it was all Schezar’s fault as far as he was concerned.  If he’d let Dilandau kill the messenger in the first place, they wouldn’t be at this point now.

“I won’t tell!”  Palos burst out, raising his hands up defensively as he fell down to his knees, offering no resistance.   He silently prayed that the old woman was right and that the stone would protect him from the demons fire.  He could see it burning in those unnatural eyes, just waiting to be unleashed.  “I… I’ve known for a few days already and I haven’t told!”

Both men shared skeptical looks with each other as the messenger continued to blubber in terror.  Gaddes wasn’t sure how to proceed in this sort of situation while Dilandau knew exactly what to do, but had been given a direct order to the contrary.

 “Schezar doesn’t need to know.”  Dilandau growled softly.  “I could kill him and we could just dump his body in the bushes.  The scavengers will take care of the rest.”

“No, and enough with feeding people to the scavengers.  I still have nightmares about that dammit!”  Gaddes shot back.  “Now put your sword away, the guys already pissed himself.  I doubt he’s a threat.”

“You clearly haven’t dealt with too many competent spies”

“I’m not a spy! I swear!”  Palos protested loudly and Dilandau sneered down at him before shifting just enough to rest the sword against his throat, letting the messenger feel the sharp edge.

“Oh no? Then how did you already know that I was here?”  Gaddes wanted to kick himself for missing that connection.  In his defense, his brain was still recovering from the prolonged lack of blood being fed to it.  At least one of them was still using their head… even if it was stuck in homicidal mode.

“I heard him speaking with the short guy on the crew the other night!”  Palos blurted, utterly unmanned by his terror and seeing no reason for even risking a lie.  “I know Sir Allen is your brother!  I know he’s planning to defect to protect you!”  Now it was Gaddes’ turn for an accusatory glare from the albino.

“Really?  I have to stay stuck in that damn ship and you go around babbling all of our secrets?”

“I was drunk!”

“That’s no excuse!”

“I pissed on a raccoon!”

“That’s…!”  The wind seemed to be sucked utterly out of Dilandau’s sails as he realized what Gaddes had just said.  Pausing in mid argument, he looked at his partner and blinked several times; going over what he just heard to make sure he hadn’t been imagining it.  “Alright, that’s fucked up… seriously fucked up.”  Realizing that he’d lost his momentum. Likely what Gaddes had been aiming at, Dilandau sheathed his sword and took a step back.

“He’s your problem then, not mine and you get to be the one to explain to Schezar how the supposedly bedridden messenger learned everything we’ve been trying to keep hidden.”

“Fine, I can’t wait.”  Gaddes grumbled, grabbing Palos by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the stream.  “Wash yourself.  I’m not going to explain to the boss why you stink of piss.”

“You want me to….” Palos thought he’d known true horror moments ago, but now the idea of undressing in front of the pale monster nearly caused his bladder to loosen a second time.

“Sit in the damn creek for all I care!”  Gaddes snapped at him.  “So long as you stop stinking!”  Cringing, the messenger hustled over to the water and knelt down in the icy wetness, deciding that being soaked was the lesser evil than stripping down.  Gaddes followed him, that baleful glare fixed on his face and his hands clenched tightly into fists.  Dilandau wandered around the edge of the small clearing, frowning faintly as he kept looking towards the North.

“Is… is he really Captain Albatau?”  Palos found himself quietly asking the darker man, attempting to sound brave even as he washed urine out of his pants.

“You know any other scarred albino’s running around?”  The man’s tone of voice clearly was warning him to shut up, but now that he realized he wasn’t going to be killed outright, Palos’ innate sense of curiosity rose up.

“I just… you know, always pictured him bigger and I don’t know… scarier looking.”  Could that boy really be the one who’d burned his way through practically every known country on Gaea?  Sure, up close he’d been more than a little overwhelming what with those unnatural eyes, but from a distance he was just some too pretty scrawny kid.  “He… he looks like he belongs in some fancy brothel or decorating someone’s household.” 

The messenger felt emboldened by his own words and allowed a contemptuous sneer to cross his lips as he shot the albino another sidelong look.  How had he been terrified of this kid?  Given the other tidbits he’s heard during that fateful conversation, it only further lessened the aura of dread around the once legendary warrior.  Maybe all of those stories of Sir Allen finding his long lost sister on the battlefield had been less fanciful than the stories said and he’d simply slapped a dress on the enemy captain.  The youth was certainly pretty enough to pull it off.

“Yeah, you tell him that and see what happens.”  Gaddes replied.  “Just warn me first so I don’t get your guts sprayed all over me.  That kid is one of the most decorated warriors on either side of the war.  You’d be smart to be respectful of that.”

As he spoke Dilandau dropped down into a crouch.  With slow deliberation, he drew his sword soundlessly and looked around, his body ready to spring into action.  Though Gaddes wasn’t aware of anything out of the ordinary, he’d learned to trust the brat’s instincts and did the same.

“Get out of the water and draw your sword.”  He advised the messenger through clenched teeth.  “Tell me you know how to use it.”

“I was first in my sword class.”  Palos stated with pride, wishing that he had actual battle experience to add onto that.  In demonstration of his skill, he drew his own sword with a flourish and fell into an easy guard position.  Unimpressed, Gaddes struggled not to roll his eyes and instead looked back at the albino, watching him for clues as to what to expect.

“Great… just stay behind me and try not to stick me with that damn toy.  Kid.  What’s up?”  He called out just loud enough for his voice to reach the other warrior, his own eyes darting back and forth warily.

“Something doesn’t feel right.  The forest just got too quiet… Van is racing towards us rather quickly, but… something is coming from the north.”  Silver brows drew down in concentration as he listened intently before he suddenly straightened up and spun around.

“MOVE!”  He yelled, moments before the stillness of the forest was shattered by the sound of liquid metal claws slicing through the air around them.   Following that was the scream of engines as two large Alseides units landed on either side of the clearing, dropping two smaller melefs armed with heavy chain nets down alongside them.

Gaddes had just enough time to grab the stunned messenger and pull him to the ground as one of the Alseides turned in their direction and raised its arm.  Three silvery spears sliced through the air where their heads had been mere seconds before.  Up ahead, Dilandau slammed his sword down on one which had been aimed at his stomach.  Rather than trying to stop the powerful shaft, he instead used the sword as a pivot point and vaulted over the metal in a neat flip, nimbly avoiding two more spears.

“Get the hell out of here Fanelian!”  Dilandau shouted loudly, trying to be heard over the engines.  “I’m the one they’re after!  Get that moron to the ship and warn them!  We need Schezar and his damn antique!”

Rather than abandon his lover to overwhelming odds, Gaddes instead gave Palos a rough shove in what he hoped was the direction of the village.

“You want to prove yourself to us?  Go get the Boss and tell him we need help!  MOVE IT!”  The messenger was lost in a panic, barely hearing the words as he stared up at the nightmarish melefs, his brain devolving into a gibbering wreck as he realized that this was Death standing in front of him, taking aim with liquid metal claws.  “RUN YOU COWARD!”  Gaddes screamed, shoving him once again. 

This time Palos’ feet worked and sent him racing off into the dubious protection of the forest only to be brought up short as he saw the underbrush bristling with enemy soldiers, all dressed in full armour and bearing rather lethal looking weapons.  Suddenly, he didn’t want to be a hero anymore.  Heroism sounded wonderful in the stories, but confronted with the face of the enemy, smelling the hot stink of guymelef oil and the sharp tang of liquid metal, he knew that he wasn’t cut out for this at all.

Back at the creek, one of the Alseides had opened up their massive claws and slashed down at the pale captain, the lethal weapons scouring deep grooves into the earth and stone but missing the diminutive human they’d been aiming for.  Leaping straight up into the air, Dilandau landed on top of the arm and drove his sword into the joint of the limb, taking advantage of his intimate knowledge of the machine to cause the most damage possible.  He knew that a single human armed with only a sword was never going to win against one of the mighty machines.  Even the legendary Balgus Ganesha had fallen to his Dragonslayers during the razing of Fanelia.  But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t make these bastards pay for their cowardly attack. 

The arm sparked brightly and the guymelf shrugged sharply, throwing him clear of its body.  Instinctively, Dilandau tucked and rolled, clutching tightly to his sword and hoping he didn’t hit a tree before he landed. 

Thankfully, it was a bush that broke his fall, and it exploded on impact, tearing dozens of small holes in the albino’s coat as well as adding to his growing collection of bruises.  His body hadn’t even stopped moving from the momentum before he got his feet under him and leaped to the side.  Trees shattered behind him as the unit after him grabbed at his dodging body, trying to catch him with twisting metal tendrils. 

Amateurs.  He sneered.  He’d been the one to work out the logistics behind creating those damn tentacles, there was no way he was going to get caught in them!   Rather than doing the expected and running away, he instead raced towards the Alseides massive feet, knowing that it would render most of the crima attacks useless, leaving him only having to worry about being crushed as it stepped around him.   Still, the risk of being flattened wasn’t enough to stop him from slashing at some an exposed joint on the ankle as he raced between the giants legs.  It wasn’t much, it he was still rewarded with seeing it stumble as the timing was thrown off.

Morons!  Didn’t they know who they were dealing with?  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the stupid messenger racing back into the clearing, waving his hands frantically at the veritable wall of armoured men closing in around them.  It was two whole squads of foot soldiers, not counting the melefs and two Guymelefs… a rather impressive turn out all things considered.  Perhaps they did in fact know who they were dealing with. 

Off to the side, he saw Gaddes trying to draw the attention of the second guymelef away.  Crima claws were striking far too close to his liking and one of the melefs was moving in behind him, its heavy sword drawn and preparing the swing.  The ten foot long blade would easily cleave the man in half and upon realizing this, Dilandau’s world slipped into deadly narrow focus.

He didn’t even notice the ground being torn up by his feet or the squads approaching, several of them aiming crossbows in his direction.  Long legs raced across the field of battle, propelling the pale body at impressive speeds as he raised his sword.  Dimly he was aware of the sharp pains as the enemy bolts hit, deadening his body on impact.  It didn’t matter.  He didn’t need to feel his body to make it follow orders.

His shriek of challenge could be heard echoing across the forest as he leaped onto the back of the melef, racing up its hull, finding the most miniscule handholds to continue to propel him up to the helmet.

Gaddes yelled something, but he didn’t care.  All that mattered was destroying the enemy that dared to threaten what was his!  _KILL KILL KILL!_  He embraced the berserker fury with open arms, driving the entire length of his blade into the open eye slit of the faceplate and feeling the weapon slide into soft flesh.

Hot blood coated his hands in a liquid rush but he took no time to enjoy it.  Instead, he spun around to face the guymelef, not caring that his new enemy towered over him the way he would over a bug.  A shining silver claw was aimed at Gaddes, slicing through the air with lethal precision.  With another scream of raw fury, he sliced into it with his sword, cutting it in half, causing the severed section to burst into blue flames as it was consumed.  His arms rang from the force of the blow and he could feel his sword shuddering in warning but none of it mattered.

_KILL KILL KILL!_ The wrongness was near, almost on top of him and he used that familiar loathing to lend strength to his arms, cutting at one of the soldiers who dared to come too close.  The heavy armour posed no threat to him as he tore through it easily, finding every weak joint and thin section of plating in the design.  His sword sliced through it as effortlessly as he did skin and bone, not pausing before spinning towards his next target. 

There was no need to count the men falling to his blade, it didn’t matter because there was always more to take their place.  Their blood bathed him in its heat, their screams empowered him.  One again he felt the bruising sting of things impacting with his body, the sharp bites of them breaking skin.  Darkness edged around his vision, threatening to overtake him but he refused to give in.  The enemy was still here!  His team was in danger!  He wasn’t going to lose them again!  He’d carpet this battlefield in corpses before they could stop him.

Something heavy landed on him, entangling his limbs and pulling at his sword.  Screaming in thwarted fury, he tugged at his arm and saw chains wrapped around it, travelling up the length of his limb.  The nets… someone had thrown a net on him like a damn animal!  Every movement just served to further entangle him, but that concern lasted only a moment longer because there was a brilliant flash of crimson light as the metal chains were energized.

Every muscle on his body seized up, tensing until he could feel his bones creaking in protest, threatening to shatter.  The darkness grew deeper, spreading across his sight and obscuring the edges of the battle as he struggled to draw in breath to scream.  The energy filled him, tore at him with a horrible sense of familiarity.

On the ground ahead of him, he could see Gaddes laying there, his sword still held beneath limp fingers as several darts stuck out of his tanned flesh.  They were identical to the ones which bit into his own skin, sucking away his strength and promising a deadly sleep.

“NO!”  He screamed out, clawing at the glowing chains, ignoring how they burned his skin or how a terrible pressure was growing inside of his head.  The weight of memories best forgotten pressed against the towering walls of his mind, causing them to tremble and begin to crack as he still struggled to get to his man.

“How is he still moving?”  A voice murmured in awe behind him and he felt another sting from a dart, easily ignored in the wake of the agony of the chains.

“He’s not human… he should be dead from that…”

“Shut up and don’t drop your guard!  He’s dangerous!”

“Gatti!”  Dilandau screamed, crawling towards his man despite the heavy chains.  His drugged mind barely aware of who it was he was trying to save.  “Shesta! Miguel!  Gaddes!  Don’t you dare die on me!  I’ll kill you bastards if you touch him!”

Even as he screamed out his defiance, he saw a dark figure cloaked in shadows move towards his fallen slayer and hold up a needle.  It was long, wickedly sharp and dripping with some unknown liquid.

“He’s ours now.  Cooperate and he will live.  Fight us and you will hear every single one of his dying screams.  Do you understand?”  If the words were meant to cow him, they had the exact opposite effect and the young captain went berserk, shrieking the names of his lost slayers, dragging himself ever closer to the only one he could see.  The pressure was leaking through the cracks in his mind and sizzling along his nerves, lighting them up one after another until they glowed with a brilliant crimson light.  All he could see was his friend laying there, about to die.  Up above, he could feel the anomaly, feeding his rage and forcing those cracks open even wider so that more crimson light shone through.

He had to protect his slayers!  He wasn’t going to watch them die a second time!

“GADDES!”  Screaming out his lover’s name, he reached out his hand and this time, he felt something answer.  It was distant, far away to the northwest, but it drew him, it called to the energy that was tearing him apart and he grasped at it without hesitation, willing to take any offer of protection being given.

 

Van folded his wings and dove down towards Gaddes’ still form as it lay there on the ground at the feet of the tall man.  Only a few feet away, Dilandau somehow was still moving forwards despite the energy of the net tearing into him and the two dozen darts protruding from his body.  Worse, he didn’t seem to be showing any sign of stopping.  His eyes were wide open and glittering with the madness that Van was all too familiar with and it drove the pale youth forwards relentlessly even as the ruby glow of energy as the nets holding him down began to short out. 

He’d taken to the air the first instant he’d felt that strange energy rippling across his skin, knowing that something terrible was about to happen.  Katz was left to struggle to catch up as he rose up above the treeline and raced towards the battle taking place only a short distance away.

Nothing he’d ever seen before had prepared him for the sight of the crazed albino tearing through those men, those melefs.  It was like watching a miniature maddened reincarnation of Balgus in the midst of battle, only this lacked his cool perfection and was instead sheer carnage.  This is what he’d fought against in the war?  It made him shudder in horror to even comprehend standing up against the monster the pale youth had become as he fought off anyone who dared to draw near Gaddes, then when he was finally taken down, still resolutely refused to surrender.

That had been after him once.  All of that madness aimed at ending his life and the only thing that had stopped it was Folken holding onto his leash.  Never had he been so grateful for his brother’s interference before and he sorely wished for it now.  Still, Gaddes needed his help.  He was down and not moving, a menacing figure was standing far too close for comfort and all around him, the air was growing charged with power.

His skin was crawling and he could feel his heart beating frantically in his chest.  With each beat, there was an echo of another, one which he felt with every cell in his body.  It was familiar, comforting and offered protection with every pulse.  Escaflowne.  He was feeling his guymelef reaching out to him… no, not to him… through him to another.  What the…?

Gasping in shock, he felt energy channel through him from his guymelef, using him as a conduit as Dilandau shrieked out the name of the fallen crewman, his eyes glowing as brilliantly as active energist.  The pendant Hitomi had given him began to glow in answer, shining the exact same colour as those terrible eyes and the air around the young draconian began to shimmer and sizzle.

Several soldiers scrambled back out of the way as a blinding pillar of light pierced the heavens and slammed down on the two fallen figures, engulfing them in its brilliance.  Unable to stop quickly enough, Van plunged into it as well and dimly was aware of a fourth figure off to the side being pulled in by the power.  That familiar sense of weightless falling filled him until he wasn’t sure which direction was up or down.  All he could do was trust in the light and pray that it would protect them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... damn those pesky pillars of light. Who knows where they'll end up? Yes, Dilandau is sort of a badass in this fight but you don't get to see him sword fight much in the series aside from that one rather disastrous fight with Van on the Vione. In the Jeture drama CD though, Folken mentions that he took the head of an enemy general at the tender age of 14, so the kid's got to be pretty damn badass to not only fight his way to the general, but to kill them too. Also, let's hear it for proper motivation! and a nice Aww for Dilandau getting it into his head that Gaddes is one of his slayers. That can only end well right?
> 
> Next chapter! Out of the frying pan, into the fire!!


	19. Behind Enemy Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good luck or bad? Gaddes can't be sure if their escape just make things horribly worse for all of them when they find themselves in one of the worst places on Gaea for them to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. I have no monies so don't sue please.
> 
> Woot! Over a hundred views! Yay! This has made a crappy week so much better. So far, I've nearly broken my knee with a botched throw in martial arts (what's worse is that it was one of my favourite moves too) got to be rushed to the hospital, it friggin snowed... SNOWED!!! It doesn't snow here. We sacrifice a lot of virgins to keep it that way dammit! On the up side, two Xmas parties though, a huge strata AGM meeting and Xmas rush at work... yeah, I'm done for the week.

                The light faded, granting weight to their bodies and allowing them to see, to feel once again.  Van spun around, sword drawn and ready to defend them all if need be even as he quickly tucked his wings back into his body.  One never knew how people would react to a draconian and it was best to err on the side of caution, especially when one was arriving in a brilliant beam of light.

                It was still daylight, the sun high in the sky as it had been before they’d vanished.  A gentle sea breeze caressed his skin with cool freshness, tinging the air with salt as well as the scent of exotic flowers.  Grass was soft beneath his feet, but as he took a step back, he bumped into something hard and unmoving.

                Spinning around, he saw that it was a tall white sculpture… no, not a sculpture, a grave marker carved from pure white marble that seemed to almost glow in the sunlight.  There were several here, all carefully tended and laid out neatly in the picturesque field.  They were standing in a hillside graveyard on the edge of a rather lovely forest, the vast sea glittering closely enough that he could hear the cry of the gulls as they played in the surf.

                “Where are we?! What’s going on!?  HOW DID WE GET HERE!?”  A panic filled voice began to babble at his feet and Van looked down, seeing a rather pale faced Astorian man kneeling on the ground, looking around himself with grey eyes wide with fear.  Perhaps around the same age as Allen, the stranger was dressed in somewhat wrinkled courtly garb, though he had the appearance of someone who’d recently been quite ill.  There was a strange sallowness to his skin and a bit of an odd odour clinging to him.  A sword of fine Astorian make lay at his feet, forgotten in his fear, and though it was drawn, it didn’t look as if it had ever seen any actual battle.

                “A pillar of light brought us here… though I’m not sure how.”  Van murmured, turning around to finally spy Dilandau, still hopelessly tangled in the chain net clinging tightly to Gaddes.  Both men were unconscious, those strange darts protruding from their flesh.  The crewman had two that Van could see but Dilandau had been pierced by well over a dozen.  Coupled with the energy the net had hit his with, the king was rather certain he wasn’t going to be getting up anytime soon.

                Blood covered the albino’s arms, painting them brilliant crimson and was spattered liberally across his face and torso, making him look every inch the crazed monster he’d been during the war.  Van couldn’t quite repress the shudder at the memory of seeing the boy tearing through that melef as if it was nothing and cutting his way through armoured soldiers.  The fact that he’d even dared to attack the guymelef, armed only with a sword was pure madness and he was rather convinced that had the net not dragged him down, the Zaibach captain wouldn’t have lasted more than a few more moments against that thing.

                Concerned, he moved quickly to their side and began checking for broken bones and open wounds.  Given the amount of blood present, it was rather hard to tell and he found himself swearing softly.

                “What’s going on!?” The strange Astorian cried out again, grabbing at Van’s arm and trying to catch his attention.

                “I don’t know!”  Van snapped angrily, furious at the hysterical man and more than ready to slap him if he continued to act in such a manner.  “But panicking won’t help anyone.  Now help me make sure that none of them have any injuries that would be made worse by us getting Dilandau out of this damn net.” 

                Rather than leaping forward to help, the man pulled away in shock, staring at him with wide eyes and Van immediately realized his error.  Yeah, it likely wasn’t a smart move to speak the albino’s name in front of strangers.  As if the fool wasn’t already in enough of a panic.

                “You…. You know who he is?”

                “That’s obvious isn’t it?”  He was willing to give the man a little bit of leeway in the name of their rather unusual circumstances, but this was rapidly becoming more than a little annoying.

                “You know who he is and you’re trying to help him?!”  Van stopped what he was doing and drew in a deep calming breath, swearing that he wasn’t going to beat the man into unconsciousness just because he was confused.  Plenty of normal people would react to this sort of strangeness in a rather unhelpful manner, not everyone had been through the level of craziness that Van had.   He had to be patient.  Kings were good at being patient right?

                “Were you part of the group attacking these two?”  Dark eyes looked at the astorian with a suddenly cold and calculating light, the grip on his sword shifting slightly, ready to attack this possible enemy.  If anything, his suggestion made the man grow even paler than before and he held up his hands in a warding gesture.

                “No! Never!”  His head shook back and forth hard enough to nearly knock himself over.  “Gaddes had told me to run to the ship and alert Sir Allen… but there were soldiers in the woods.  I couldn’t get away.”

                At his words and the utter honesty radiating from them, Van visibly relaxed and sheathed his blade with a curt nod.  An ally was always good to have at your back, especially when things turned in on themselves the way they clearly just had.

                “What’s your name?  You’re not part of the Crusade crew.”  This man was clearly too high bred and well-mannered to be part of the rough and tumble crew though he clearly seemed to know them, and Gaddes wouldn’t have let anyone he didn’t trust around Dilandau.

                “I’m Palos of House Varinth, a Royal Messenger from Astoria.”  Despite his confusion and panic, this Palos seemed to draw a sense of strength and calmness in reciting his title.  Typical Astorian, you could spot them anywhere with that attitude and Van managed to bite back a smile as the stereotypical behavior.  Peacocks the lot of them.

                “Well then it’s a pleasure to meet you Palos of House Varinth.  I’m King Van Fanel and I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting like this.”  Yes, channel Folken, be all prim and proper even though people were possibly bleeding out at their feet.  It was the only way to calm down the high strung noble and get him to be of any use.  As he spoke, he bent down and began pulling the darts of our Dilandau’s back and arms, wincing at how the

skin already was beginning to swell around the wounds.  “But, seeing as how we’re both here, and our allies are in need of our aid, do you think you could help me check for wounds?  It would be rather inconvenient if they died.”               Motioning with his hand in Gaddes’ direction, Van couldn’t quite resist adding in that last little barb, hoping to spur the man into action.  Chances were better of this Palos person helping Gaddes than Dilandau.  He didn’t seem to be the type to want to get blood on himself, and the Dragonslayer was rather liberally coated in it.  Of course, there was also the slight chance that he wouldn’t want to give medical aid to the maniac who’d nearly burned down their capital.  It was a feeling he could empathize deeply with.

                “You owe me big Allen.”  He grumbled under his breath as he wrapped the darts in a spare scrap of cloth he tore from his beloved shirt.  It was best to keep them on hand in case they needed to try to identify possible poisons.  Who knew what the damn things had been coated in. 

                “Your Majesty!  It’s an honour to meet not only a King, but a hero of the Great War!”  Palos dropped down to his knees and bowed his head politely as Van stared at him, shocked that the man would be trying to follow pointless court etiquette when there were injured men bleeding at their feet.

                “Check them for wounds!  We can do all the court crap later!”  He snapped impatiently, waving his hand in Gaddes’ direction.  “Look for cuts that need binding, or broken bones.”  It was safe to assume that this idiot knew nothing about medicine seeing as how he hadn’t immediately leaped to lend any aid to the fallen.  Of all the people he had to be saddled with… He had to get stuck with a court idiot.

                Thankfully, Palos seemed to have finally gotten over his initial shock and realized that he was needed and quickly knelt down next to Gaddes, carefully running his hands over the man’s arms and torso.  When his hand came away with fresh blood, he grew dangerously pale and held the crimson stained fingers up to the king.

                “What do I do?”  The hand was trembling and the messenger swaying dangerously.  Van quickly shifted over to check the dark haired crewman and found a deep wound along his ribs.  It looked like a crima claw had grazed him.  Gaddes was lucky, a hair to the left and he’d have bled out.

                “Give me your sash.”  The king motioned towards the pale rose sash wrapped around the messenger’s waist.  It looked like expensive silk.  Gaddes would be pleased to know that his wounds were being dressed with such finery.  “Hurry it up!  The man’s bleeding!”  Van snapped, holding out his hand expectantly.  Unable to deny being ordered around by a monarch, Palos finally bid his sash a sad farewell and handed it over, doing his best not to wince as it was quickly wrapped around Gaddes’ bloody chest. 

                Van gave the sash a sharp tug, tightening it so it wouldn’t come loose.  It wasn’t pretty as far as first aid went, but every little bit helped.

                He gave Gaddes a quick once over, finding an impressive assortment of bruises… a bite mark on his shoulder… what the heck?  And several shallow cuts and scratches.  Some looked to be a few days old, likely left over from his little trip to Fanelia.

                “Keep an eye on him, see if you can wake him up.”  He instructed Palos and turned his attention to Dilandau.  The idea of running his hands over the albino’s body was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do EVER, but he owed it to Allen and really, if Dilandau died under his care because he didn’t bother to do a rudimentary check, he’d never forgive himself.

                Oddly, the Zaibach youth seemed to be in better condition than Gaddes all things considered.  There was a lot of bruising on his chest and abdomen that looked a day or two old, much fresher bruises on his throat and several darkening marks from where the darts had hit him.  What worried the king was his rapid shallow breathing and the sweat beading on the pale skin.  The soldiers had panicked and shot him too many times with the darts and his body was trying to deal with the overdose of whatever they’d pumped him with.  Adding in the charged net and it really was impressive that he was even alive.  Still, they needed medical attention and quickly.

                Sighing, Van leaned back and rubbed his temples before realizing that he was leaning against one of the grave markers.  Nervously, he jumped away, feeling more than a little superstitious and he gave a polite bow of apology to the grave.  It was never a good idea to upset spirits.  He’d learned that lesson the hard way. 

                Straightening up, he caught sight of the name on the marker and felt a chill run down his spine.  Encia Schezar.  A quick look back at Dilandau showed that he was still unconscious, still clutching Gaddes tightly in his arms.  The young king blinked several times in confusion as he stared at his nemesis.  Why here of all places?  This was the second time a pillar of light had brought the Dragonslayer captain to Astoria… to this place in particular.  Why would he feel a call towards family he had never met?

“We’re not far from Palas.”  Palos murmured, looking around and noting the glimmer of buildings against the distant sparkle of the sea.  “It’s too far to walk on foot from here with two unconscious men, but this is the Lily Fields, it’s the Nobles Graveyard.  I’m sure we can find someone here who could lend us a carriage.” 

Van stared at him for a long moment, waiting for the messenger to realize what a bad idea that was.  As expected, it took several long seconds before the man glanced down at the bloody figure at their feet and his hopeful smile faded. 

“Oh… yes… that might be a problem.”  Even unconscious, Dilandau was making Van’s life difficult.  He’d be so proud of himself. 

“The Schezar manor is around here isn’t it?”  Van asked Palos, figuring that if anyone knew where all the noble homes were, it would be him.  “I remember him mentioning taking Celena here several times.  He talked about walking here and her picking flowers along the way.  There’s no way he’d take her far from home.”

Palos looked over at him, confusion in his eyes before he nodded his head and pointed off to the northwest.

“It’s only about a mile or so from here, the High Road passes by the edge of Schezar lands, and there’s some riding trails that head in that direction.”  Van nodded his head and bent down to try his luck in untangling the heavy chains.  Dilandau was going to be hard enough to carry; he didn’t need to add all the extra weight on top of that.

“You mentioned the Lady Celana, I haven’t heard anyone talk about her, but she was with Sir Allen wasn’t she?”  Palos had never actually seen the Knight Caeli’s elusive sister, though he’d heard a great deal about her.  After the war she was often the subject of wild rumours.  What he didn’t really understand was why the crewmen had said that Dilandau was the knight’s brother.  The Lady Encia had only had one son and one daughter, everyone knew that, just like they all knew that Lady Celena had vanished when she was just a child… granted, she would be about the same age as Dilandau.  Wait… was Dilandau Celena?  Had Zaibach somehow brainwashed her into thinking she was a male soldier?  That was… it was insane!  No that couldn’t be right, he’d seen the albino fight and no woman could ever manage what he’d seen.  She’d rather die than become such a monster!

Looking down at the King trying to untangle said monster, Palos’ eyes fell to the long scar marring the youth’s otherwise beautiful face.  He then looked over at the one who’d managed such a feat.

“Um… I know this is a personal question, and forgive my impertinence… but… you’re the one who scarred him right Your Majesty?”  He pointed towards the face in question and Van paused in his untangling to give the messenger an annoyed look.

“Yes, I did.”  The tone was guarded, as was the Fanelians expression.  “Why?”  Palos could only shake his head, at a loss for words.  If Dilandau had caused that much carnage to the heavily armed squad that had attacked them in the forest, how much more terrifying was King Fanel for having defeated him so brazenly?  It was humbling to be standing next to such a man. 

Realizing that said man would likely greatly appreciate some help right now, Palos dropped down to his knees and began to help him untangle the chains, doing his best not to cringe too badly when having to touch bloody limbs.  Ugh, it was so thick and sticky!  He was never going to get his hands clean after this.  Worse, his outfit was likely ruined.

It was hard not thinking about how he could so easily just pull out the small knife in his belt and bring an end to the Zaibach demon once and for all.  The temptation was almost too strong to resist, but as he picked up one slender and bloody arm, he couldn’t help but think of how fragile the limb felt in his hands.  The muscle sheathing the fine bones was rock hard and there wasn’t so much as an ounce of fat on the kid, but it struck him now that this was in fact just a kid.  He wasn’t even old enough to need to shave for Jeture’s sake.

This kid should be playing with swords, imagining himself as some great hero of old chasing after girls and trying to sneak into taverns for illicit glasses of alcohol.  He shouldn’t be burning down cities or fighting melef’s with his damn sword.

Glancing over at the frowning king who was trying to pry those bloody fingers away from Gaddes’ limp body without breaking them, Palos amended his previous thought.  Neither of them should have to live through what they had.  Sure both came from societies known for their militaristic cultures, but this just wasn’t right.  Adults should be fighting to protect these kids, not being protected by them… from them.  How had this world gotten so screwed up?

Little by little, the netting came loose and after what felt like forever, Van was finally able to pull Gaddes away, wincing at the dark bruises on his skin from where Dilandau had grabbed him.  At the loss of contact with the albino, the crewman groaned softly in pain and his eyelids fluttered slightly. 

Palos yelped loudly and leaped back in shock before he recovered his composure.  Van didn’t even spare the man a look of exasperation.  His attention was wholly fixed on his friend.

“Palos, see if you can find some water.”  He instructed, realizing that Gaddes would likely need some rather badly after everything that had happened.  “There should be a fountain or a stream or something.”  Whether there was a cup available or not didn’t occur to either of them and the messenger ran off, leaving Van alone to gently call Gaddes’ name.

Dark eyes opened slightly but didn’t focus on anything in particular as Gaddes groaned again, winced, then his eyes widened almost comically before he quickly twisted to the side and vomited on the ground.  Van wrinkled his nose in disgust but didn’t pull away.  Instead, he gently rubbed his friends shoulder, hoping that the friendly touch would help center him. 

“Hey, welcome back.”  Though he hated how pathetic the statement sounded, it was still better than “So, congratulations on not dying!”  Which was really the only other thing he could think of saying at this moment.  Gaddes heaved again and Van sent a silent apology to the grave currently getting fertilized, hoping that if its occupant was still hovering around that they didn’t take offense to it. 

“Whe…whe…”  The older man’s lips refused to finish forming the words and he choked on the foul taste in his mouth.  Spitting several times to try to rinse away the foulness, he then tried to sit up and quickly realized what an amazing mistake that was.  He wasn’t quite sure what was worse, the pain in his head, the churning in his stomach or the line of fire eating into his side.

“Where are we?  Astoria, just outside of Palas.”  The voice was familiar and he knew that there was a name attached to it, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he really cared.  It felt like he’d been sat on by a guymelef.  What had happened? 

Then it all came back in a rush.  Being with Dilandau in the woods, the attack, yelling at that damn messenger to get help, seeing that guymelef taking aim with its claws and hearing a bloodcurdling shriek of rage followed by the sound of metal tearing through metal….

“Dilandau!”  This time he did sit up and nearly threw up again for his efforts.  “Where’s Dilandau?”

“Right next to you, be glad you leaned in the other direction to throw up.  I doubt he’d appreciate it otherwise.”  Van replied, not at all surprised about the older man immediately fixating on the albino.  He was beginning to get the feeling that the two were inseparable.  It hadn’t escaped his notice that Dilandau had called out Gaddes’ name along with the names of his dragonslayers, though what it meant wasn’t something he was quite ready to consider at the moment. 

Gaddes leaned over and looked utterly relieved at the sight of the unconscious youth, though the instant he noticed the blood and the fact that he wasn’t moving quickly wiped away the warm smile before it had a chance to fully form on his face.  In its place was a look of utter devastation and Gaddes all but lunged at the unconscious youth, his hands fumbling at the boy’s neck for a pulse even as he placed his ear over Dilandau’s chest, franticly listening for a heartbeat.  

“Is he ok?  What happened?  Why isn’t he moving!?”  The older man was clearly about to panic and Van watched in shock as he grabbed at the albino and began shaking him, calling out his name loudly, heedless of any possible onlookers. 

“He’s ok!”  Van quickly said, grabbing the back of Gaddes’ shirt and trying to pull him back off of the young captain.  “Calm down before you end up hurting him more.”  He admonished, shocked at how deeply this was affecting his friend.  “He was hit with a lot of darts.”  Van stated quickly, realising that Gaddes wasn’t about to let go of Dilandau, he released his hold and sat back. Letting the man calm himself, hoping he wasn’t going to have to knock him out in order to keep his former enemy safe.   “You were hit with two and I have no idea what they were coated with.  They put over a dozen in him before hitting him with a charged net.  He’ll probably be out for hours.  I already checked him for injuries and didn’t find any that were life threatening.” 

Gaddes’ panicked shaking stopped and he gently released Dilandau’s the rather ruined shirt.  Even with the rough treatment, the albino still hadn’t so much as twitched.  Grey eyes bore into Van’s, still bright with panic, the suspicion in them was jarring, but the king had to figure that the crewman was within his rights to not be entirely trusting with Van in regards to Dilandau’s wellbeing.  It’s not like he really had much of a vested interest… unlike Gaddes apparently.  Just what exactly was their relationship?  He was far too emotionally invested in the Zaibach captain for this to be simple friendship or babysitting detail… they both seemed to be.

“You have a bad cut on your side, from the size of it; I’d say a crima claw grazed you.  You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”  Van watched as Gaddes calmed down enough to actually listen to him.  Gingerly, the older man reached down to touch the wound, wincing as he did so.  “Don’t poke it; you’re going to need stitches to close it up properly.  Do you have any idea how lucky you were!?”  He couldn’t quite keep his voice from rising at the thought of how close his friend had come to death.  “What were the two of you thinking?!  Why would you fight such a superior force?!” 

“Well, they didn’t really give us much of an option.”  Gaddes grunted softly, reaching out and gently stroking Dilandau’s blood matted hair with surprising tenderness.  “I… did he really take on a guymelef?”  The awe and concern were evident in the man’s voice though Van was more concerned with the tender touch than what he was actually saying.  “Never mind… of course he did; the little psychopath.”  Never did the king think that he’d live to hear that ever used as a term of endearment.    “I’m totally gonna kick his scrawny white ass when he wakes up.”

More than a little uncomfortable with the intimacy of the scene, Van coughed loudly, hoping to remind the crewman that he was still here seeing as how it seemed that the man had forgotten as he stared down at the unconscious youth.

“I don’t suppose you know the quickest way to the manor?  One where he won’t be seen?”  The king asked, figuring that if anyone had intimate knowledge of the Schezar lands, it would be Allen’s best friend.  “We might also need a discreet doctor.  I can stitch you up myself, but we don’t know what’s wrong with him, and I don’t like the way he’s breathing.  He looks like he’s in shock.”

That certainly got Gaddes’ attention and again he struggled to sit up properly, only to fall back down swearing loudly.

“We need to get him help then!  Why are we sitting here on our asses?  Help me up so I can carry his lazy ass!”  Seeing the man about to try to sit up yet again, Van sighed softly and pressed down on Gaddes’ shoulder, pinning him easily.

“Take it slowly.  Palos is getting some water for you.  As soon as he gets back, we’ll start heading for the manor.”  Looking back down at the unconscious albino, he noted that Dilandau was looking decidedly grey under the blood and there was a bluish tinge to the edges of his lips.  That wasn’t good at all.

“Dammit…”  He growled softly.  “For just once could you not be a royal pain in my butt?”  He shifted closer to the Zaibach youth and took a hold of one of his arms and legs, working the long limbed youth over his own back, bracing himself carefully before slowly straightening up.  “We need to get moving, he’s looking worse.  Move carefully and see if you can stand up without pulling at the wound too much.”  The king instructed, only to immediately be ignored as Gaddes tried to lurch to his feet in a near panic.

Red was seeping liberally through the makeshift bandage on his side and Van had to resist the urge to slap the older man who should know better than to be this stupid.

“Slow down!  I can’t carry both of you, and Palos doesn’t look to be strong enough to do it either.  Move slowly… lean on me if you have to.”  As he spoke, he braced his legs for the added weight, silently thanking the gods that Dilandau wasn’t that heavy for all his height, and that he wasn’t wearing that damn armour of his.

Gritting his teeth fiercely, Gaddes reached out to take Van’s hand and with his help, pulled himself to his feet with only a minimal amount of cursing.  Rather than try to walk however, his first action was the reach over and pull the hood of Dilandau’s coat over the stained hair, then arrange the coat itself to cover as much of the youth as possible. 

“I doubt anyone will recognize him at the moment, most of him is covered in blood.”  The irritation was obvious in his voice but Gaddes didn’t seem to be bothered by it.  Instead, he calmly placed his hand over the boys pale sweaty brow, checking his temperature.

“He needs to be covered or he’ll burn.”  The effort of standing and speaking were clearly wearying the man and his own brow was looking rather damp.  “He’s… not good in the sun… how long was he uncovered?”  Having a naturally swarthy complexion, the sun had never been much of a bother for Van, though he did vaguely remember that Folken had usually used certain creams before spending long times outside.  Clearly pale skin didn’t fare as well, heh.  Imagine the biggest pyromaniac on Gaea defeated by a big ball of fire.  Oh the irony. 

“He wasn’t exposed for long,” Van mentioned, taking a careful step, making sure that Gaddes was able to follow.  The taller man winced visibly and was moving with agonizing slowness, but he was managing.

“Good… good… don’t need him bitchy from a sunburn.”  The man forced out a wan smile as he focussed on putting one foot in front of the other without falling.  “At the manor… Alberto knows about Dilandau… he’s served the family all his life.   Haruna knew too… Celena’s nurse…. She died in the attack.”

“Alright… so we have one ally.  How many servants are at the manor?”  More importantly, how many people were they going to have to worry about gossiping about who was going to be hiding out there.  The last thing they needed was an Astorian lynch mob on top of everything else.  “Dammit Dilandau, why couldn’t you have had the pillar of light take us to Fanelia.  At least I could control the situation a little better there.” 

Gaddes made a rather skeptical sounding grunt, likely not believing that for a moment and on reflection, Van sort of agreed with him.  He loved his people dearly and knew that they felt the same about him, but not even he could wholly predict what his subjects would do if an unconscious and injured Dilandau appeared in their midst. 

As they staggered along a pristine path of finely crushed shells towards their destination, Gaddes heard someone come running towards them.  Carefully he turned; his hand moving towards his sword though he knew that he was in no shape to draw it let alone fight.  Palos was ran up to them radiating pride as he held up a rather elaborate gold urn, splashing water with every step.  Just seeing the water, all beautiful, glistening and refreshing made Gaddes pause in mid-step as he realized just how dry his throat was.

“I… I got water!”  The messenger panted, looking far too impressed with his accomplishment, though honestly, Gaddes was more than ready to give him as much praise as he wanted so long as he got to have a sip of that sweet nectar.  “I had to take it from a grave and wash it out… I’ll give it back!”  He quickly added, noting how both men grew pale at the blasphemous action.

“You… you stole from the dead?”  Van sputtered; rather sure that wasn’t what he’d told the messenger to do.

“Borrowed!”  Palos corrected him primly, forgetting for a moment that he was addressing a king.  “I borrowed it and will give it back next time we come through.  Gaddes and D… Dilandau need water.”  The stumble over the albino’s name was slight, but still noted by the crewman.  He didn’t think that he should be overly surprised; really it was a miracle that any Astorian citizen was helping them knowing who their companion was.

“You’d better.”  Van grumbled under his breath.  “I’m not having any more ghosts mad at me.”  He of course declined to elaborate when he noticed Palos’ confused expression.  Instead he motioned for Gaddes to drink.

“Can you soak a cloth and put it on his lips?  It might help.”  The king suggested and then realized that his suggestion was moot seeing as how Gaddes was already doing that, forgoing his own thirst in order to make sure that Dilandau was given some form of moisture.  There was still no reaction from the unconscious captain, not even when Gaddes moistened the rag again and began to press the cool cloth to the boy’s face, wiping away some of the sweat and grime from the battle.

“Drink Gaddes.”  Van instructed patiently.  “You’re no good to him if you pass out on us.”  The statement earned him a sheepish look and the crewman dutifully drank, downing nearly a liter of water in the space of a few moments before giving a lusty sigh.

“Oh Jeture, you have no idea how good that tastes.”  He sighed in pleasure before looking back at his pale companion.  “He’s going to be alright… right?”

“If there’s one thing I learned from the war, it’s that if Dilandau’s life was in danger, something weird would happen to fix it.”  He allowed himself a rather wane smile, noting all of the times allies would step in to stop his blade, ghosts would attack, pillars of light would appear or fanatically loyal beastmen would take the killing stroke meant for him.  Really, that many strange coincidences made for some rather disturbing patterns when he thought about it.  “He’s a cockroach and has survived far worse than this.”

“Yeah… you’re right… but he still looks like shit.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.  I’m sure that would make his day.”  Van couldn’t resist teasing his friend and watching the honest look of alarm on the older man’s face.  Both of them knew damn well how narcissistic Dilandau was.  Any slight towards his appearance would be punished severely.

“You wouldn’t.  Even you’re not that mean.”

“What do you mean by that?  I’m a nice guy!”

“Then take pity on me!  I’m injured.  I was in a battle you know.”

“You were losing you know.”

“Any battle you can walk away from.”

“You didn’t walk away.”

“You both are…not what I expected.”  Palos murmured softly, interrupting the steady banter that was serving to take their minds off of their problems.  “Not at all what I expected.”  He’d never met a more down to earth king than this Van Fanel, though to be truthful, he was still more than a little petrified of the dark youth.  One had to respect that level of legendary battle prowess.  As for Gaddes, he’d thought the man was a lazy slob, but the man hadn’t hesitated to leap into the pitched battle even knowing that he was likely going to die.  More impressively, he’d immediately concerned himself with his companion’s wounds and needs over his own. 

Both men were turning out to be far more impressive than his initial impressions and Palos was finding himself strangely humbled to be in their presence.  He continued to watch them as they left the graveyard and began to walk through a rather pretty bridle path through the forest.  Flowers grew all along its edges, surrounding them in sweet smells despite the lateness of the summer. 

Gaddes paused once or twice to pick a few of the more brightly coloured ones and his cheeks coloured slightly when Van shot him a questioning look.  There was no way he could explain that he was hoping that the familiar scents might calm Dilandau down when he woke up in a strange place.  Of course, it then hit him that the young captain wouldn’t recognize the plants at all.  Celana loved these particular ones, but Dilandau would have grown up smelling plants native to Zaibach… still, he was loathe to toss them away.  Hopefully his young lover appreciated the thought behind them rather than the implication that Gaddes might see him as feminine or girlish.  Either of those would earn him a fist to the face.

As much as he was loathing doing so, he leaned heavily on Palos, his side had gone from being on fire, to having turned into molten metal and was slowly eating its way through the rest of his body.  Still, he managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the growing wetness he felt tricking down his side.  What mattered was getting Dilandau to shelter and someone who might be able to take care of him.  If the kid could hold on, then so could he.

At one point, Van stepped off the trail and after a little manoeuvering of Dilandau’s limp form, managed to dig around in the bushes, plucking a few rather ugly looking leaves from an equally ugly shrub.  The things looked half dead, all brown with green splotches and they sounded dry as well.  Noting the curious look he was getting, Van smiled and tucked the leaves into his pant pocket.

“They might be able to help him.”  Was all he said on the matter.  At this point, Gaddes knew better than to ask teenagers about the plants they picked.  Everyone seemed to know more than he did on the matter… stupid plants.

 

The walk seemed to take forever as far as Gaddes was concerned.  Sure the sun hadn’t moved that far in the sky, but it was clearly toying with him.  They’d clearly been walking for hours!  His clothes were plastered to his body with sweat and every breath t tore at his side so that he had to grit his teeth to keep from whimpering.  Van was even looking mildly winded from having to carry Dilandau and the older man felt more than a little guilty about not being able to help.  Palos was stumbling slightly, looking rather pale again, but considering how sick he’d been just yesterday, he was handling himself rather well.  Thank Jeture that his stomach had settled.  Gaddes was rather sure he wouldn’t have been able to handle having to stop every few minutes to listen to the messenger relieve himself.

When they finally broke through the trees and came into view of the manor, the crewman was ready to cheer in relief.  Everything looked so beautiful and civilized!  There would be running water here, hot baths, a real toilet!!  Most importantly, it was a sanitary place for them to stitch him up and try to get Dilandau back on his feet.  Of course, first he had to make sure that no one knew about their guest’s identity.

Taking a moment to make sure that the hood was still low over the boy’s hair and that his pale skin was covered, Gaddes looked over at Van.

“I’m going ahead to get Alberto all caught up on the situation.  He’ll make sure that the rest of the staff is elsewhere in the house.  Come in through the south parlour doors, they’re the ones by the rose garden and should be the closest to us.  From there it’s easy to get to the bedrooms.”  He wasn’t going to mention how often Allen had taken advantage of that fact in his dalliances.  Not with a gossipy court messenger standing right there. 

The king nodded his head, barely hearing Gaddes as he focussed on not jostling his passenger and doing his best not to convince himself that Dilandau had somehow gained about fifty pounds over the past half hour of walking.  Between this and being chained for three days, he was rather sure his spine was forever damaged and he’d be a hunchback by the time he was twenty.

Gaddes moved as quickly as he was able to towards the house, clearly knowing his way as he sped across the manicured lawns and gardens.

“How are we going to be able to tell Sir Allen that we’re here?”  Palos asked, sounding rather worried about just walking into the home of a rather influential noble unannounced.  Royal messenger or not, there were certain social rules one had to follow, and this was breaking most of them.

“Katz didn’t get taken with us.  As soon as he saw the pillar of light, he’d gone back to the Crusade to tell everyone that something happened.  Allen would then organize a group of them to check out the site of the battle, capture any stragglers and make sure we weren’t injured or captured.  Once it’s secure and there’s no threat to the village, he’ll head straight here.”  Van spoke the words with confidence, as well he should, he’d known the knight like a brother for a year and a half.

“Why here?  Wouldn’t he head for Fanelia or something?  Or think we went to the Mystic Moon?”  Palos said the words with evident awe, his eyes drifting up towards the sky even though the celestial body in question wasn’t visible yet.

“No.”  Van grunted softly as he shifted Dilandau’s weight a little and did his best to ignore the agony in his shoulders.  “This is where Dilandau went last time… it makes sense he’d come here again if he was scared enough.” 

“But… how could he do that?  I thought only that girl… Hitomi could call up pillars of light.”

“I don’t know how he did it.”  Van didn’t want to explain about feeling that strange connection that had reached through the pendant around his neck, into him then into his Drag-energist back in Fanelia… back to Escaflowne.  Dilandau had loathed the armour even more than he hated Van himself, so how had he done that?  How was there any sort of connection?  “None of us know much about Dilandau.”  He muttered softly.  “It’s best if you don’t ask too many questions about him right now because we won’t be able to give too many answers.”

To his surprise, the messenger didn’t continue to pester him.  Instead, he simply nodded his head and kept walking towards the house.

They were almost at the rose garden Gaddes had mentioned when an older gentleman of clear Astorian descent rushed out to meet them.  His hair and clothing were both immaculate and there was a look of honest concern in the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

He hurried towards them without hesitation and quickly lifted the unmoving teenager from Van’s immediately grateful back.  The king wanted to sag to the ground at the immediate sense of relief, but struggled to stay upright as a point of pride.  There was no way he was going to fall over when the old man was carrying Dilandau as if he were weightless.  The instant that pale bastard woke up; Van was going to tell him to go on a damn diet!

“Please come with me Your Majesty.”  Alberto stated as if he’d known Van all of his life.  There was no bowing or scraping for with the king was grateful.  After all, the man had bigger priorities than Van’s ego.  “A pleasure to meet you as well, Messenger Palos.”  He added politely, acknowledging the other man even as he turned and began walking towards the open parlour doors at a brisk pace.  “I have cool towels and some iced drinks set out for you in the parlour, do make yourselves comfortable and if you require anything merely ring the bell.  I do apologize that I will be slightly delayed in attending to you.  If it is an emergency, Vivienne, the chatelaine is in the library and would be most pleased to attend you.  Do not worry about Master Gaddes, I shall tend to his wounds personally.”

With that he vanished inside, leaving the two men to stand there gaping at what had just happened.  This time it was Palos who recovered first and pulled the door open a little wider for Van, giving him a polite bow.

“After you Your Majesty.”  He stated in all seriousness and Van had to bite back a bit of a smile at how tightly Astorians clung to their precious manners no matter the situation.

“Considering all we’ve been through today, it’s just Van.”  He stated as he walked through the door.  Judging by the utterly shocked look on the messengers face you’d think that he’d just been propositioned in the middle of High Court.  The man had no idea how to deal with this sort of situation and was petrified of either saying or doing the wrong thing.  “Fanelians don’t stand much on ceremony.”  He amended, hoping that would help relax him.  Sadly, it was doomed to failure and the instant the king was inside, Palos followed and immediately fetched him one of the promised towels and drinks.  At least he didn’t bow when he handed them over.

Both of them stood there awkwardly in the room, unsure about sitting down on the expensive furniture while wearing their grubby clothes.  Palos chose to stand there by the door, sipping his drink and discreetly looking around before rubbing his face and the back of his neck with the cool towel, sighing in bliss a the comfort it brought.

Van chose the towel first, washing his face and hands before finding a wooden stool he was rather sure he wouldn’t ruin by sitting on.  Only then did he take a few sips of his drink, noting that there was freshly squeezed lemon mixed in.  It was heavenly and seemed to revitalize him as much as an hour long rest.

“Is that the Lady Encia Schezar?”  Palos asked softly, motioning towards a large portrait of a beautiful silver haired woman hanging over the fireplace.  Van nodded, at first confused that a Royal Messenger wouldn’t know the rather well respected noblewoman, but then he remembered that Palos would have been quite young when she’d died and had likely only met her once or twice previously.

Nodding his head, he looked at the painting, noting for the first time just how much the woman resembled Dilandau.  They had the same fine features, large long lashed eyes and silvery hair.  Dilandau’s of course was a few shades paler, more silvery white than the more common silvery grey of Astorian nobility but still, it was uncanny.  He looked more like her than even Celena did.

“He really is her son isn’t he?”  Palos looked over at Van, confusion clear on his face.  “They are almost identical… but Encia only had two children…everyone knows that.”

“It’s a long terrible story.”  Van all but whispered, entranced by the woman’s sweet yet melancholy face.  The artist had caught her in mid thought and though there was a slight smile on her lips, it looked as if she already knew of the darkness seeking to envelope her beloved family.  “And it’s not my tale to tell.” 

Not knowing what else to do, Van began preparing the glar leaves he’d picked, hoping that they might be able to counteract whatever poison was in Dilandau’s system.

*********************

 

“Is he going to be alright Alberto?”  Gaddes asked for the tenth time in as many minutes, earning himself a faint fatherly smile from the older man.  “His breathing is still so shallow… is he in pain?”

“You worrying won’t change anything young man.”  The servant chided him gently.  “Drink your water and sit back before you tear out your stitches.  You’ve lost quite a bit of blood and I will not see you cause yourself further damage.”  Feeling suddenly like he was ten and being chided by his father, Gaddes sat back in the chair and obediently sipped his drink, letting it wash away the sour taste of the painkillers Alberto had given him.  At least his side was comfortably numb and there was bruise paste all over his body, making him stink like a hospital ward.  It was hard to not blush at the memory of the look he’d gotten from the older man as he’d ordered Gaddes to undress so he could see the full extent of his injuries.  Though the crewman had been allowed to keep his smallclothes on, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat embarrassed at the rather obvious nature of the bruises and scratch marks adorning his body, especially the bite on his shoulder.

It said a great deal about the man’s professionalism that he refrained from comment.  However when he’d begun removing Dilandau’s clothing and washing him, the old man’s eyebrows had risen at the matching marks on the pale flesh.

“I trust that Master Shezar is not aware of this… development?”  Alberto asked discreetly, checking to ensure that there were no broken bones or sprains on the youth beneath all of the blood.  Again, Gaddes turned brilliant red and looked down at the floor.

“Er… no… no he’s not.  Please don’t tell him!”  Gaddes was ready to drop to his knees and beg shamelessly if that’s what it took to buy the man’s silence.  He couldn’t risk being sent away, though he knew that Alberto would be well within his rights to banish him from the manor.  No matter his history, Dilandau was still of noble blood and Gaddes was just some common mongrel.  Worse, the kid was still technically a child by Astorian standards, not to mention a ward of Allen.  The very idea that Gaddes had gone behind his friends back to not only court his little brother, but “deflower” him as well could land him in very serious trouble.

“That will depend on what Master Albatou says when he awakens.  If you have taken advantage of him, I will not be pleased.”

“I haven’t, I promise you that.  He’s not the sort of person you can take advantage of even if you wanted to… which I didn’t.”  He sputtered nervously, earning himself yet another faint smile. 

“You are lucky that I am well aware of the different cultural practices within Zaibach compared to Astoria regarding such things.”  The manservant stated in a gravely serious voice.  “However I must remind you that you are a citizen of Astoria, as is the young Master.  Thus you are both subject to the laws of this land.  Should you receive permission from Master Schezar to court his sibling then I will support you to the best of my abilities but until then, I would respectfully ask that you remain apart as far as intimate relations are concerned.” 

Gaddes couldn’t help but wince at the statement, fully aware of the severity of his actions.  Not that he’d really been thinking about the law per se at the time…er… times.  It was hard to think about much of anything when Dilandau smiled at him with lust n his eyes.  He was a force of nature rolled up in a delectable package.  Now though, looking at him lying there on the bed, all pale and bloody, he looked so young and vulnerable that it actually did make Gaddes feel like he’d taken advantage of the boy. 

“I wouldn’t go around saying that he’s a citizen of Astoria.”  The crewman warned, unable to pull his eyes away from his unconscious lover.  “He’s Zaibach to the core and won’t take it well at all.  As for the rest… he won’t be impressed with being told what he can and cannot do.”  Reaching out his hand, he gently stroked those silken silver locks, moving them off of Dilandau’s face and smiling slightly.

“I don’t imagine he would.  Zaibach are proud and stubborn people, but I don’t make the laws and it’s my duty to protect the members of the Schezar family, whether they want me to or not.  I hope you understand.”  The old man actually sounded honestly sincere with his words and Gaddes had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything he knew he’d regret.  This man wasn’t the enemy and right now, he had the authority to take Dilandau away from him completely if he wanted to.

Unable to fight this battle, Gaddes simply nodded his head in acquiescence.  At least Alberto hadn’t immediately asked if he’d also pursued “relations” with Celena.  The very thought of taking advantage of a young girl with the mind of a child was simply revolting.  It was bad enough that several noble men had already been sniffing around her, hinting to Allen that she was the perfect age for marriage.  Her lack of adult understanding seemed to have been a grand point in her favour as far as they were concerned.  Thankfully, Allen had agreed with Gaddes and ensured that Celena was kept well away from court and its accompanying vultures. 

He really hoped that Alberto didn’t see him as being at all like those vile letches.  Celena was a victim, a true innocent, whereas Dilandau was more than happy to let anyone know how he felt about something, violently if necessary.  No one would be forcing him into any sort of relations he didn’t want.  Not if they wanted to keep all their body parts intact.

Sitting there in the chair, he watched Alberto tend to his young lover carefully, gently massaging bruise poultice on his many injuries and checking his abdomen thoroughly when he saw the dark bruises marring the perfection of the skin.  After two days, they really were beginning to look terrible and left Gaddes marvelling at the fact that the kid hadn’t complained about them once.

“Dragon.”  Gaddes supplied at the inquisitive look.  Once again, Alberto merely nodded as if utterly unsurprised.  Did nothing ruffle the man’s composure?  He was willing to bet that Dilandau would find a way once he was up and running around. 

There was a tentative knock on the door which caused Gaddes to jump in surprise and then wince as the sharp movement caused his pain to gnaw its way through the painkillers.    Rather than have Alberto turn his attention away from Dilandau for even a moment, Gaddes gingerly rose to his feet, waving the older man away, and answered the door.

Van stood there, looking nervous and awkward as he held up a bowl that had once held various seashells.  In it now was a rather vile smelling paste.

“I… I made this.  It neutralizes most poisons… I figured that it might help with whatever they put on the darts.”  He sounded so young and uncomfortable that the only word Gaddes could think of to describe him at this moment was adorable.  Not that he’d ever say that out loud.  Clearly going out of his way to help his long time enemy wasn’t something he was used to doing, but the very fact that he was making the effort made Gaddes grin at him widely.  It was the most welcoming smile he’d given the monarch since their reunion and he motioned for him to come into the room.

As Van entered, his dark eyes travelled over Gaddes’ bare torso, noting all of the bruise paste covering him and quickly appraising the quality of the stitches.  He gave a barely perceptible nod of satisfaction before returning the smile somewhat nervously, likely not sure if Gaddes would trust him anywhere near Dilandau.

“I would be honoured to have you help Your Majesty.”  Alberto replied politely, casting a quick glance at the paste.  “I’ve seen the forest people use a rather similar looking medicine before.  It had the most remarkable healing properties.  Would you mind sharing the recipe with me?”  At his kind words, Van’s nervousness eased and he nodded his head.

“My brother taught me how to make it.”  He stepped forward as he spoke and collected some of the foul smelling gunk on his fingertips before carefully applying them to the bruises made by the darts.  They were simple enough to spot seeing as how they were a dark angry red with faint swelling around them and small scabs where the flesh had been pierced. 

Sitting himself on the edge of the bed, he began to rub the paste into the wounds, making sure that it had been absorbed by the skin before moving onto the next one.  Once he was finished with the darts that had stuck his chest and shoulders, he motioned for Alberto to help him turn the youth over, not wanting to hurt him by trying to do it alone.  

There were so many bruises on his back that it was painful to look at.  Several of those were from the darts, but there were several smaller lacerations from his flight through the brush and Gaddes figured that some of those were from their earlier tryst… most likely that raw patch on his shoulder blade.  Thankfully, neither man seemed to make that connection.

Van began to apply the paste to the dart wounds then paused as he felt the old scars on the skin and frowned slightly, shifting to look closer.

“Gaddes…”  He looked up at the crewman, concern written all over his face.  “Are… those whip scars?”  Now Alberto leaned closer, a dangerous look crossing the man’s usually serene features.

“They are.”  Alberto confirmed.  “They’ve been well tended to and healed nicely.  This looks like a knife, though the cut is too precise to be from a fight.  Has he had surgery?”  With two sets of eyes bearing down on him, Gaddes couldn’t do anything but tell the truth and hope that his lover forgave him eventually.

“Not as such… They tortured him.  Repeatedly.”  He motioned towards Dilandau’s wrists and the barely visible scars.  “He’s been restrained regularly; the same marks are on his ankles too.  I’ve also found small scars from needles in the back of his neck and all along his arms.  There’s also a small scar on either side of his throat from something… I don’t know what, but it looks like a huge needle.”  His hands clenched tightly into fists and he knew that his voice was rapidly becoming a growl of fury. 

“He doesn’t talk about it.  Not when he’s awake at least.”

“And when he’s not awake?”  Alberto asked softly, sounding very much like a mother bear realizing that someone had dared to touch her cubs.

“He screams.  Every night he relives what they did to him.  We haven’t figured out how to make it stop.”  Even Van looked sick now and he looked at his nemesis with deep pity in his eyes.  “Partly we think was how they made Celena into him… but…I think they kept doing things to him… I think that’s why he was so crazy.  Jeture… the agony they put him through.”  He was trembling now and not caring how it looked to the others, he reached out and gently took Dilandau’s hand in his own.  “The Dragonslayers protected him somehow… or at least gave him something to think about other than what was being done to him.  When they died…”

“No wonder he hates me so much.”  Van murmured in horror.  “If I’d known…But he still saved me from that… the Madoushi were going to do the same thing to me… that’s what he said.”

“Look… don’t let him know that you know.”  Gaddes pleaded with them both, giving that pale perfect hand a gentle squeeze.  “He’d hate it.  He doesn’t like anyone talking about it at all and he won’t tell either the boss or I what they did to him or why.  He doesn’t remember most of it though… it scares him I think, the not knowing.”  He had no idea why he was telling them all of this.  Most likely, it was just all of the stress he’d been through finally coming to a head, but it felt good to talk to someone about it.  Specifically someone who wasn’t going to throw weapons at him for daring to bring the subject up.

“The Boss was going to come to Astoria and look up the old Zaibach files on him and see if there was anything we could learn.  Right now, all we have is the name Zane Shroden, and something called or named Eidolon.  If it’s a word, I’ve never heard it before and neither has the Boss.”

“The Emperor was from the Mystic Moon, and they speak a different language there, maybe it’s one of their words.  I could ask Hitomi… I was going to speak with her anyway tonight once the moon rose.”  Van suggested as he set the bowl down and helped Alberto put Dilandau onto his back again. 

“If the paste helps at all, it shouldn’t take long for the effects to be seen.  They hit him pretty hard with that net though, so he’ll probably be exhausted even once he regains consciousness.  What are the chances of him staying in bed until he’s healed?”

Gaddes had to smile at that question seeing as everyone in the room already knew the answer; even Alberto who’d never met the youth in person before.

“Yeah, I figured that.”  Van gave them a slightly rueful smile.  “We’ll have to try to find ways for him to amuse himself without draining his system.  He looks exhausted.”

“Got any books you don’t mind being set on fire Alberto?”  Gaddes asked in a half jest.  It was all too easy to picture the brat building himself a little bonfire of bad literature and dancing around it giggling like a maniac.  Most people would have blanched at the question but Alberto merely raised a single bushy eyebrow at him.  The expression was so utterly Dilandau that the kid had to have picked it up from him through Celena somehow.  There was no other possible explanation.

“I will see what is available.”  The old servant rose to his feet and headed towards the door before favouring Van with a gentle smile.  “I shall prepare a bath for you Your Majesty and have a room made ready.  I trust you will wish to be placed close by?”  Van nodded his head and surreptitiously sniffed at himself, suddenly realizing that he likely didn’t smell overly appealing.  Gaddes could only imagine how ghastly he himself must stink, but there was no way he was going to relax in a tub while Dilandau was unconscious.  He planned to sit here until those crimson eyes stared into his, even if it took all damn week.  Alberto likely realized this which is why he hadn’t offered the crewman a bath as well.

He watched as the two men left the room, closing the door discreetly behind them.  Once he was sure of their privacy, he raised the slender hand to his lips and gently kissed the palm.

“I promised that I wouldn’t leave you alone Dilandau, and I won’t.  I’m here for you, so get better so I can chew you out for picking a fight with a bloody guymelef.  You’re a crazy little bastard, and I don’t think I’d have you any other way.”

**************************

 

Dilandau dreamed.

Trickles from the past flickered through his drugged mind, bringing forth forgotten moments buried deep within his psyche.  They came one after another, clawing through the damaged barriers of his mind, filled with torment and pain best locked away forever.

 

Darkness surrounded the seven year old boy, suffocating him slowly with its weight.  His only light was from a small window high above his head that glowed with the ever present blue light of the hallway outside.  Thick glass muffled any noise which might have broken up the monotony of the tiny room he was being held in, giving him something to fixate on other than the tiny stain on the wall in front of him that had become his obsession for the past few hours… days… weeks… how long had he been here?  How long had it been since anyone had spoken to him?  Touched him?   The stain would move and dance for him if he stared at it long enough.  It would warp into fantastical scenes, sing half remembered snippets of songs and always… always it would beckon him to join it.

He had no name, only a designation but that didn’t strike him as odd.  There was no memory of a name and no need have any identifying label beyond what his Master deigned to give him.  Only people had names.  That’s what his Master had said.  One day, if he proved himself to be worthy of it, he would be given on.  Until then, he was nothing… no one.

He was simply Subject 35.  No one had ever called him that.  No one called him anything at all, but it was written on his cell door, marked on his clothes and the feeding trays.  It was his only way of identifying self and he clung to it tightly.

Food came in through a narrow slot on the door at irregular intervals, further toying with his failing perception of time.  Sometimes it felt like days had passed between meals and his stomach growled loudly in protest.  He’d taken to talking to it, thrilled to hear something other than the sound of his own voice.  Desperate for even that paltry illusion of interaction, he decided to refuse to eat, determined to ignore the pain of starvation so he could hear the precious sounds his body made.  The rumbling in his belly grew louder, more insistent, forming words he could almost grasp.  Sitting there in the darkness, he would pat his midsection and smile, discussing his plans for the day and enjoying its loudly voiced opinions.

His stomach was so proud of his decision.  It agreed with his actions and the boy revelled in the flashing glimmer of power in the action, as if by simply pushing the food back through the panel, he’d somehow managed to control some aspect of his life.  Through control there was strength, that’s what his teachers told him in the precious hour that he was given each day beyond the walls of his cell.  He’d be driven to exhaustion by his instructors, competing against other boys his age, each one bearing that same desperation in their eyes to be the best.  As they trained, the towering men and women would lecture them, somehow managing to not address any of them directly.  Only their Masters were permitted to do that.

They would be taught endlessly about perfection, about control and death.  To fail at the first two would result in the third, and they had seen enough of their peers cut down in front of them to question this absolute truth. 

Sadly, his fleeting feeling of control hadn’t lasted long.  The door had opened shortly after he’d pushed the tray back untouched and he’d been forcibly dragged out into the hallway.   Ever the coward, his stomach had fallen silent, refusing to offer any sort of support.

The sudden stimulus of touch, movement and the sight of the world beyond his four walls where there was simply too much space had thrown him into a panic.  He hadn’t even felt the prick of the needle before he was sent into a drugged sleep.  When he’d awoken, it had been to find himself strapped down to that all too familiar cold metal table, his wrists and ankles bound, leather straps holding his chest and head still, preventing any sort of movement. 

A blinding light shone down on him pitilessly, obscuring the shifting shadowy forms hovering over his supine body.  Screaming was impossible.  His mouth was already held open by metal clasps and a tube had been shoved down his throat.  Breathing hurt, but he found himself still trying to draw in great lungful’s of air in his panic, muscles screaming in protest as he struggled against his bonds.  Blood slicked his wrists and ankles but he didn’t care.    Was this it?  Were they going to kill him now as an example to the others?

“You will eat when you are given food.”  The cold oily voice that was the only one he ever heard outside of training filled his ears.  Worship, terror, hatred and desire warred within him as he struggled to make out which of the looming shadows belonged to his tormentor… his god.  “You belong to Zaibach.  Your desires do not matter.  Only Zaibach and its glory do.  A warrior who does not eat cannot fight.  A warrior who cannot fight is useless.  Useless things are destroyed.  Failure to eat again will result in your death.  We do not waste time on useless things.” 

The words were impersonal, clinical.  He’d heard countless variations over the course of his short life and though tears of terror flowed from his eyes, he struggled to nod his head, desperate to please. 

“Warriors do not cry.  Crying is for the weak.  The weak are useless to us.”  Beyond his range of vision, a switch was thrown.  He could hear the sharp click as something sinister was activated.  Agony filled his body, blinding him and stealing that precious breath from his lungs as he tried to scream out his pain.  There was no way to escape the torture, no way to beg for mercy.  Not that his young mind even realised that such an option was even possible.  It wasn’t a concept he’d ever been introduced to in his nightmarish existence.  “We do not waste time on useless things.”  His tormentor’s voice droned on tonelessly, repeating the phrase drilling it into his young mind like a mantra.

Snowy white lashes blinked several times, trying to rid themselves of the hated tears, denying any connection with them with the dedication that only a young terrified child could possess.  He wasn’t useless!  He wasn’t weak!  He would be strong for them, he would make them proud! 

The pain faded as his control was noted and the sheer relief that swept through his tortured body almost made him weep all over again.  Fighting down the emotion, he did his best to lie still and not be sick from the memory of his suffering.  Little by little, there was the feeling his stomach slowly filling with whatever they were pouring into the tube.  He had failed their simple instructions regarding his life.  He’d failed to obey, but they were feeding him, teaching him a valuable lesson as they took care of him.  Deep down inside, he felt the warmth of gratitude suffuse him at the generosity of his masters.

When it was finally over and the long slick tube was pulled from his body, rough hands unfastened his restraints and he was forced to walk on trembling legs down the cold metal hallway back to his cell.  His entire body shook from the trauma he’d just endured, but he gave no outward sign of his pain and made no attempt at escaping.  Warriors didn’t run.  Running was what cowards did and cowards were useless.  They didn’t waste time on useless things.

The cell door slammed shut behind him, locking him away from any interaction with another human being, trapping him once again in isolation.  To add further torment to his suffering, the small window darkened as a panel was closed, leaving him in utter darkness.  Now he couldn’t see the stain on the wall and he couldn’t hear his stomach gurgle to him. 

He knew without being told that his master wouldn’t visit him tonight.  There would be no heated touches to break up the monotony of his imprisonment.  It was his punishment for failing at such a simple task and he knelt down obediently in the darkness, murmuring fervent praises for his jailors, his country and his Emperor for continuing to try to build him into becoming the warrior they felt he could become.  They were listening; he’d learned that long ago.  They always listened and they always knew whenever he’d misbehaved. 

Why was he always rebelling?  Time and time again he was punished for his uncountable infractions; daring to laugh, to speak before he’d been given permission, shifting his weight when told to stand still.  The list was endless and he promised his invisible listeners that he’d do better.  He wouldn’t fail Zaibach.  Failures were useless and Zaibach didn’t waste time on useless things.   

 

 

Five boys stood in a line in front of the assembled officers, their eyes staring fixedly ahead, their bodies motionless as any well trained soldier standing at attention.  All five were beautiful youths just shy of their teens, their eyes bright and their smooth skin unmarked.  Each one was exotic in their appearance, possessing unusual hair or eye colour.  They’d been designed to stand out, though he especially drew the eye without fail.  It made their masters push him harder than the others, expecting more from him. 

Only a short while ago, there’d been eight of them, before that, twelve.  There was some vague sense that there had once been an even greater number of youths standing on either side of him, but the memories were drowned in fog, slipping through his fingers if he focussed on them too intently.  Not that he often did.  They’d failed so they had died.  It was a simple concept that each of the remaining youths understood intimately.  It had often been their own hands sending their peers to walk the paths of the dead.  To show mercy was to show weakness.  Weakness was useless and they did not tolerate useless things.

Though the floor was cold metal, the boys wore no shoes or socks to protect their feet.  At first it had burned their skin, sending dull knives of pain up the lengths of their legs, making every moment they stood there an agony.  Now it had faded to a dull throbbing ache though none of them dared to give evidence to their discomfort.  They stood at attention, unmoving save to occasionally dare to blink their eyes.

Their clothing was also ill suited for the cold air of the room.  Their slender forms were clad in thin bodysuits that left nothing to the imagination and offered little in the way of atmospheric protection.  Chill air bit into their skin through the porous cloth, but they refused to shiver.

Standing with a discipline which belied their age, none of them had so much as shifted their weight during the hour the Madoushi had stood there reciting statistics, progress reports and medical jargon.

The silver haired boy studied the shadowy figures in front of them with all of the wariness of a creature who’s learned the hard lessons of not daring to trust in anything beyond himself.  Most of the lights in the room were focussed on them, revealing the boys in stark pitiless detail while granting their observers anonymity.  Still, he could feel the boredom and the hostility radiating from the group even as he heard several of them shifting on the chairs provided.

Assembled in this room were rather well decorated men and women of the Zaibach military.  Officers who had the power of life and death over the youths and who would one day control their fates just as much as their Madoushi masters.

Today they were being presented to their future superiors; prototypes for a special project of the Emperor Himself.  It was an honour beyond measure, knowing that their beloved leader had a personal interest in their success and each of them was determined to make Him proud.  So far they had been flawless though none dared to show such blatant pride in front of the Madoushi.

He’d never seen this particular one before, at least not that he remembered.  There were so many holes in his memories that he’d given up trying to figure out his past.  Only the present mattered, that is what his Master was always telling him.  Take what was needed, act as was needed.  Regret nothing, fear nothing.  Only the bold would survive to shape the world.

His own Master had declined to speak today, preferring to focus on researching a new formulae rather than pander to pompous windbags who were far too focussed on their own political glory than the advancement of Zaibach’s ideals.  At least that was how he’d put it to the Madoushi who now held their proverbial leashes.   The boy knew that this meant he’d be back in the lab tonight, strapped down to that loathsome table as burning chemicals were pumped into his body for hours on end.  He would scream until his voice shattered and beg for the pain to stop before it drove him mad, but he also knew that his Master wouldn’t care.  The experiment mattered more than his comfort.  He wasn’t a person yet, merely a thing.

It should have made him feel some measure of relief, knowing that his Master wasn’t looming nearby in the shadows, ready to inflict agonizing torment for the slightest infraction.  Instead, he felt lost and disoriented.  None of them had ever seen this many people at once and it created a rather painful amount of tension between his shoulder blades as he struggled to keep them lowered and relaxed.  They had been ordered to be still, to not move until instructed to and not one of them dared to disobey despite the growing hostility of the room. 

Next to him, the boy with the emerald green hair and golden eyes trembled slightly as he struggled to hold still.  His frantic heartbeat was nearly palpable.  Rather than feel sympathy for his peer, the silver youth instead felt nothing but contempt for the minute show of weakness.  Subject 25 wouldn’t last much longer.  He only hoped that the boy didn’t break down during this important presentation.  They’d all be punished severely if he did.  The project might even be shut down, and they all knew what happened to the subjects of failed experiments.  The Madoushi had taken great delight in giving them a tour of the Distillery, where another project was currently being disposed of.  The line of thin trembling failed subjects, little more than children themselves were forced to walk into the maw of the great machine.  Once inside, the Madoushi explained, it would disassemble them, breaking them down into their most basic parts for use in future experiments.  Even with the great metal doors closed, they could hear the agonised shrieks from those within.  They’d lasted a horrifically long time.

With the price of failure hanging heavily over their heads, the youths stared at the assembled, determined to be the perfect machine soldiers they’d been designed to be.  The roughly twenty people in the room, sitting in chairs staring at them intently, searching for any hint of weakness with predatory intensity, ready to pounce the instant it was discovered.  At the center of the observers, sitting on a slightly raise dais were the legendary generals of the Four Demon Armies and ultimately, it was their approval they were pandering to.  Of course, the men were still bound to the whims of the Emperor, and through Him, to the Madoushi, but their cooperation would determine the ultimate success or failure of the field testing of the project and they very well knew it.

“While I’m sure that this is all quite interesting Lord Salzar.”  Peitre, General of the Silver Army drawled, his voice sounding high pitched and weak despite the man’s fearsome and ruthless reputation.  His sneer of disdain could be felt in his tone and the way his angular body shifted in its chair on the raised dais at the front of the room.  

“We came here expecting to see the next generation of warriors for our armies.  Not… their bed warmers.”  He waved a hand negligently in the direction of the boys who all stiffened imperceptibly.  Struggling to keep his breathing calm and even, the silver youth felt his eyes burn with his supressed emotion.  Nothing would please him more than gutting that foul minded fool!

The Madoushi, Lord Slazar merely smiled in response, hardly bothered by the insult towards his subjects, or perhaps he simply didn’t understand the derision behind the words.  Few things mattered to a Madoushi beyond their projects.

“I assure you General Peitre that these five represent the pinnacle of our experiment.  They are perfect warriors in every way, able to serve in any position required in battle-”

“Yes, I can already think of several positions they could serve my army.”  General Helio of the Bronze Army chuckled loudly, his great girth making the chair beneath him groan ominously.  “Honestly, you expect us to take them seriously?  You have spent the last hour extoling their virtues but all I see are scrawny little boys with the faces of girls.”  Several of the lower placed officers nodded their heads in agreement, none sounded at all impressed and it made him want  turn their pathetic grumblings to screams, to show them the terrible glory of the Madoushi so that they’d fall to their knees in awe of the power of his Masters.  Didn’t they understand that to mock the Madoushi was to mock the Emperor?

“Can you honestly picture what our enemies would say if they saw these pretty little things marching into battle?  We’d be a laughing stock!”  General Zodia of the Iron Army grumbled loudly, echoing the thoughts of his peers.  “This is a distraction isn’t it?  What are you sorcerers really up to?”

The Madoushi frowned as he fixed his cold eyes on the Generals, finally realizing that he was being mocked, that the genius of their experiment was being cast into doubt by such crass creatures who had no idea that they were about to be rendered obsolete. 

The youths all saw his reptilian gaze turn to them, not one of them dared to even blink beneath his cold appraisal.  With a faint smile which held all the warmth of a glacier, the tall cloaked man talked towards the boys, looking them over critically before reaching out and stroking his fingers through the silver youth’s hair.  It was a gentle caress but full of implied threat should he pull away.  Though a sick sense of familiarity filled him, the boy remained perfectly still, not even his pale lashes so much as twitched though he knew the man could see the disgust and rage burning in his eyes. 

“These boys are the perfect beings.  Any impurity or undesirable trait has been flushed from their bodies.   They will form no emotional attachments nor do they understand fear or mercy.  There is nothing for them but the call of battle and the orders of their superiors.  Look into this one’s eyes; see the fires which burn within?”   There was the sound of people shifting in their seats; leaning forward with the first stirrings of interest they’d shown all meeting.  “They are living weapons My Lords, unlike anything Gaea has ever seen before.”

“So you’ve made pretty little berserkers.  I fail to see how they will change the destiny of Gaea as you’ve been droning on about.”  A colonel sneered, his courage bolstered by the disparaging comments of his superiors.  “Still, I bet they’re little fireballs, look at the fury in the pretty silver one’s eyes.  I’ll take them into my unit.  My soldiers need the recreation.”

“Kill him then.”  A new voice spoke up, drawing the attention of the assembled officers.  The deep cold tones came from the fourth Demon General, Aldelphos of the Copper Army who had up until now been silent for the entire meeting.  He sat on his raised chair, his icy grey eyes never leaving the five youths, studying their every reaction to the words of the soldiers, and more importantly, their Madoushi masters.  His disgust was clear to the silver youth, though whether it was directed towards them or their looming master was unclear.

“Sir?”  The Colonel turned and looked up at the General, unsure if he should be taking the order seriously.  These were priceless experiments after all, despite how insulting they were to any self-respecting soldier.

“Kill him.  If you can, then all our great army has lost is a pretty whore, but if he defeats you then I will take them into Copper Army to serve as warriors.”  His tone was chillingly matter of fact and only now did those calculating eyes focus on the Madoushi.  “Unless you doubt the skills of your subjects, Lord Salzar?”

The Madoushi drew his long dark cloak more tightly around his thin body and nodded his head, smiling cruelly at the Colonel who was now rising to his feet and approaching the front of the room.

“Subject 35 step forward.”  The silver youth took a step forward from the group, crimson eyes locked on the approaching man and glittering with naked anticipation.  Finally he could vent his rage and frustration.  He was being handed power over this warrior and it was now up to him to prove to the others what a weak and useless fool this man was.  It was difficult not to lick his lips in anticipation.  “Disarm but do not kill.”  The youth gave no signs as to whether he acknowledged the order or not.  Such things weren’t needed.  The Madoushi’s power was unquestionable and absolute.  The youth could no more ignore it than he could suddenly shed an arm on command.

None of the other boys moved as the large armed man approached them; they didn’t even appear to watch as the soft sound of a sword being drawn echoed through the room.  The silver youth knew better though.  Their every sense was focussed on him, torn between wanting him to succeed for their continued survival and wanting him to fail so he would no longer be a threat to them.  He was after all the best among them and so long as he held the title, the others would never be truly perfect. 

“This is a waste of pretty flesh, but so be it.”  The Colonel grumbled even as his eyes glittered with amusement and anticipation of putting a puffed up Madoushi in their place.  With a fierce yell, he lunged forward, intending to skewer the boy through the chest, ending the farce quickly.  At least, that’s what he’d planned.  The youth wasn’t feeling nearly as cooperative however and the instant the fool drew within range, he exploded into motion.

The assembled soldiers saw little more than a pale blur as the boy dodged the blade by a hairs breadth, moving past the guard of the man, a fierce grin lighting up his face at the thrill of battle. Small yet lethal hands struck at the wrist and elbow hard enough to numb the limb before bending the arm back on itself at an unnatural angle.  The wet snap of bones breaking echoed through the room, followed by the shrill scream of the Colonel as the pain caused him to drop his sword.  Before it even hit the ground, the boy had deftly scooped it up, reversed his grip and drove the weapon down into the unprotected stomach of his attacker.

The Colonel’s scream became a broken gurgle as he struggled to draw in breath, clawing at the blade with his remaining working hand, a look of utter shock etched across his face.  Rather than backing off, the boy rode his battle lust and kicked out viciously, shattering the man’s knee and sending him to the floor in a broken heap. 

Without pause, he twisted lithely around and raised his foot in the air, preparing to shatter the downed man’s pelvis.  He wanted to hear more screams wrenched from those lips, he wanted to see the man’s tears and blood displaying his utter defeat to everyone in the room.

“That is enough 35.  Desist.”  The Madoushi stated calmly and the silver youth froze instantly, an expression of thwarted fury etched across his lovely features as he glared at his victim, slowly lowering the foot back to the floor. 

Obediently, he took a step back into line, a vicious smile flickering across his face for the briefest of moments before he once again assumed the expressionless mask of the others.

“In less than three seconds, Colonel Landers was defeated by an unarmed Subject 35.  As ordered, he will live.”  Cold eyes swept over the now silent room, daring any of the men to further mock his work.  “The experiment is of course ongoing and we are still testing each subject extensively for any defects.  Once the final prototypes are released for active duty, they will be serving under General Adelphos in Copper Army.  There, we will be closely studying their progress and enacting any upgrades or alterations as required for optimum performance.”

The room remained silent, even General Adelphos seemed stunned at the sheer level of violence he’d just been witness to.  Grey eyes stared into crimson as the two studied each other, weighing the others worth and already seeking weaknesses to exploit.  Neither dared show fear to the other. 

“Good luck Gein.”  General Peitre chuckled as he sat back in his chair, idly stroking his thin chin.  “You are now the proud owner of Gaeas prettiest attack dog.  Be sure you never let that one forget his place or you might be the one ending up the bitch.”  This time, no one laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Gaddes isn't so good at playing it cool when he's worried about his little pal being hurt. Poor guy. Van actually starts putting his money where his mouth is on his promise to keep a truce with Dilandau. I actually am finding that Van is sort of growing on me, though I must admit that I love the arguments between him and Dilandau. I doubt the two of them will ever get along.
> 
> Next Episode!: Dilandau gets another visit while in dreamland, a relationship is defined and light is shed on the darkness.


	20. Answers and Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group decides that working together is their only option... as is seeking some outside help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vision of Escaflowne isn't owned by me nor are the characters. I'm borrowing them and will put them back when I'm done.
> 
> Yes, I know that the action has dropped down a bit, but oooh info! Learning! Feels! Behold it all!

 

                He was back in the room once more, the tiny window in the door painting a small square of light on the floor, a light he used to stare at for hours.  This time however, he wasn’t alone.  There was a small child kneeling on the floor, staring up at the window and reaching out a pale tiny hand towards it.  It was impossible to tell their gender because of the loose shift they wore as clothing but their platinum blond hair was roughly cut in a short boyish style.

                “Please… please don’t leave me alone!  Brother!  Brother where are you!?”  Confused, Dilandau stepped towards the child, hearing the familiar sound of his armour boots on the metal floor.  Glancing down at himself, he realized that he was once again wearing his uniform.  The weight of his shoulder guards was familiar and comforting, as was the cool feel of his diadem against his brow.

                Unable to help himself, he grinned widely and felt for his sword, strapped securely to his belt as always.  Ignoring the child, he drew the blade soundlessly and felt a pleasant tingle travel up his arm as he held the finely honed weapon.  It was much better quality than the crap weapon he carried now and he ached to test its edge on someone.

                As if sensing his murderous thoughts, the child turned and looked at him with wide blue eyes filled with tears.  The prospect of dealing with some bawling brat wasn’t one Dilandau wanted to consider, testing his blade on the little runt seemed so much more appealing.

                “He’ll come for us.”  The child said confidently, wiping a snot covered hand across their running nose, making the dreaded Zaibach captain cringe in disgust.  He couldn’t keep a sneer from twisting across his face at the sight of the tears.  What a weak creature.  They’d learn the hard way that such things weren’t tolerated here, or they’d die.  In fact, why wait?  He raised his sword, preparing to strike the whining waste of skin but their next words froze him in place.  “Allen is going to be a knight one day.  Knights always rescue their princesses.  He’ll save us.”

                Suddenly he knew who this child was and he could only stare in shock as those huge trusting eyes stared up at him with utter acceptance and love.  Did she not see his sword?  Didn’t she see the hatred in his eyes?  He could kill her without a single glimmer of guilt, hells, he’d be delighted to kill the brat after what she’d put him through!  Why wasn’t she scared?

                “He’s not coming.”  He hissed at her instead, somewhat surprised at the amount of bitter venom in his voice.  “Allen never came for you.  You’re going to be tortured and torn apart until there’s nothing left of you but me.”  The little girl didn’t look upset over his words, making Dilandau wonder if she was even old enough to understand what he was saying to her. 

                For once, curiosity overrode his more violent urges and he stepped towards her then crouched down to examine the child he’d once been more closely.  She in turn seemed to study him, their expressions were identical right down to the faint frown and slightly raised eyebrow though neither realized this.

                “You’re very pretty.  You look just like Momma.”

                “And you’re covered in snot.  That’s disgusting.”  She sniffed again, wiping her hand across her face with all the carelessness of a child.  Her eyes stared into his and she reached out with one of her grimy hands to touch his face, forcing him to pull back or be covered in slime.

                “Don’t’ touch me!”  He snapped, shifting his sword to a more threatening position, wondering why he didn’t just run the brat through.  Sure, technically he’d be killing himself, but this was a dream right?  He was dreaming this… only, he’d never dreamed of Celena Schezar before.

                “It’s not a dream silly.”  She smiled, not looking intimidated in the least by the openly brandished weapon currently menacing her.  He shot to his feet in an instant, preparing to strike at whatever this thing pretending to be a child was.  How could it read his thoughts?  Was this another sick Madoushi trick?

                “I’m not reading your thoughts.”  The little girl chided him gently.  “We’re the same person… sort of, and this isn’t a dream.  Not really.”  Though she looked and acted like a five year old child, there was an age to her eyes and the way she spoke that made her seem older.  It was unsettling.  Actually, this whole scenario was unsettling and he really wanted to wake up.

                “What is this then?  Some sort of shared memory?  I never met you, I don’t know you and if you’re after the body you’ll have to fight me for it because I’m not giving it back.”  He spat, stepping into a fighting stance, preparing to attack the instant he didn’t like her answers or suspected a trick.

                “No tricks, no games… I’m here…For a long time I wasn’t… there was nothing but this little room.  They wouldn’t even let Jajuka come and play with me.  I miss him.  He had the softest fur and I loved to scratch his ears.”  She smiled for a moment as Dilandau’s heart skipped a beat at the familiar name.  “They took him away from me though, they said that I didn’t need him anymore… then they made me you.”

                “He’s dead.”  It hurt to say the words and she nodded her head sadly, unsurprised by the news.

                “I know… I can feel the hole inside you where he was.  There are so many holes inside you.  It must hurt.”  He didn’t answer her, far too disturbed to be able to form any reasonable reply.  Undaunted, she continued to speak as if this sort of thing was perfectly normal to her.

                “I remember a few things though.”  She smiled gently and the walls around them faded, becoming a beautiful nighttime forest filled with lush greenery.  The flowers were all closed for the night, but their fragrant scent still filled the air and Celena drew in a deep breath, smiling as she did so.

                “This is where I woke up for the first time.  Everything seemed to be so small!”  She giggled in delight and ran around a rather pretty bush full of wild roses, causing several fireflies to take flight.  “And down that path is a pond full of pretty fish.  Brother used to take me there to feed them.  Momma would watch as she sat in the shade… but she wasn’t there this time.”  Her smile faded slightly for a moment but it rekindled quickly enough as she looked back at Dilandau.

                “We’re not far from home.  You’ll love home.  Momma will read us books by the fire and there’s lots of tasty treats to eat.  If we’re good, Cook will make us little cakes or lemon squares!  Come on!  We can see Brother!” 

                Dilandau didn’t move an inch as he looked around himself warily.  He had never been here before though there was something eerily familiar about it.  One thing he did know for certain was that he didn’t want to go see Schezar’s house or eat stupid sweets with some snot nosed brat.  The prospect of meeting his mother was promising… but she was dead.  There was nothing at the house for him but ghosts.

                “You said you remembered a few things?  How?  I don’t remember you at all and I certainly don’t remember this.”  He motioned vaguely at the forest, wondering if this might be from one of the holes in his memory.  There were so many after all. 

                Up ahead, Celena stopped running, her smile fading as her innocent expression became sad and filled with the weight of far too many horrors for a young mind to bear.  Sedately, she walked back to him.  With every step she took, the forest melted, becoming cold metal walls once again, the pale square on the floor standing out brilliantly against the darkness of the room.   They were standing in front of each other once again, staring into each other’s eyes.

                “I couldn’t really before, I only knew me just like you only knew you… but now I can see more, I remember more.”  Her eyes teared up again and before he could react, Celena launched herself at him, clinging to the skirts of his armour like a little leech, refusing to be pried off and not letting him pull away.  “Something changed and now the door to the cell opens.   I don’t want it to open.  I… I’m scared to go out.  There’s so much pain.  Everything hurts and I can hear screaming.”   She sobbed brokenly, her tiny body shivering in terror. 

Dilandau stared down at her, wishing that he was anywhere but here.  This was too strange even for him and while normally he’d just tell the little brat what had happened to drive her back into this damned cell in their mind, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“I don’t want to go back.”  She sobbed brokenly, her voice muffled by his leathers.  “It hurts too much, it always hurts too much.  Please don’t make me go back.”

Unsure of quite what to say or do, knowing full well that pep talks had never been his strong suit, he gently placed a hand on the top of her head, giving her an awkward pat.  Honestly, this is why he much preferred dealing with soldiers.  A simple sharp slap across the face and an order to control themselves always stopped such histrionics. 

“You don’t have to go back.  I’m going to find the people who hurt us and I’m going to make them pay for every scream.”  He promised her, gently prying her grubby and disgusting hands off of his pristine uniform.   If she heard him, she didn’t respond, too lost in her fear and suffering to notice.

When he finally did pull free of her grasp, she sank down to the floor, covering her face with her hands, sobbing her heart out and calling for the brother that would never come.  She was so useless and helpless, no wonder Zaibach altered her body, rebuilding her into something better.  Dilandau had been through far worse than this and had weathered it without any ill effects.    Astorians were so weak willed, it was a twisted trick of fate which had granted them the victory over the hardened citizens of Zaibach. 

Well, he would see about changing that.  A cruel smile etched itself across his face as he opened the cell door and stepped out into the light and the screams, welcoming the pain it promised with his sword drawn and a manic gleam in his eyes.  Bring it world.  He was Dilandau Albatou, not some weepy little girl, and he was going to cut a swatch of destruction across the face of Gaea until he found his target and destroyed them.

 

 

The light was blinding to his eyes, cutting straight though his skull and driving sharp spears of pain directly into his brain.  Everything hurt and his limbs felt leaden, weighed down by an unfamiliar sense of weakness.  Blinking a few times and licking his dry lips didn’t do anything to alleviate the feeling and now the damn world was spinning around him.   Shifting slightly, he felt a familiar weight pressed against him and felt a nearly overwhelming sense of relief as he realized that not only was he not alone, but he was in good company.

 “Fanelian?  Where are we?”  Though his voice was little more than a strained whisper, it was enough to wake up slumbering crewman somewhat.  Dilandau felt him snuggle a little closer and tried to raise an arm to wrap around his warm solid form, but the damn arm didn’t want to move and even the idea of forcing the issue sent a sharp weave of nausea through his guts. 

Gritting his teeth and refusing to lay there like some victim while they might still be in danger, Dilandau snarled softly and forced his body to obey his will.  It was agonizing and everything seemed to twist around him in a rather worrisome manner, but muscle by muscle, he managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. 

From there, he spent several minutes just panting, trying to get the world to sit still and keep his stomach from tearing its way up through his mouth.   He knew the feeling well enough and recognized the aftereffects of the tranquilizers the Madoushi favoured with him.  This was the largest dose he’d ever had to deal with though and his body didn’t like it one bit.  Oh what he’d give right now to have Folken standing there holding a glass of whatever it was he always gave him after a meeting with his Masters. 

“Damn Folken, you never were convenient you bastard… going and dying on me.”  At least his vision was finally focussing, though in doing so, his headache sharpened immensely.  His body swayed dangerously, threatening to fall over, but he braced himself with an arm and looked around at his strange surroundings.  Rosy hued walls, lacy curtains hung from a window, fuzzy… things stared at him with dead eyes from various perches.  Clearly he was in some sort of hellish cell designed to shatter the will of the prisoner.  It was insidious and he was hard pressed to resist shuddering at the twisted mind who’d designed this.

Automatically, his hands went for his weapons, but not only were they missing, but he was half naked, clad only in his small clothes.   The blood from the battle had been mostly washed away but his pale skin glistened with something foul smelling that was both greasy and crusty at the same time.  Worse, he could still feel the dirt and blood from the battle creating a thin layer of filth on his body. 

Moving carefully, both out of caution and because any fast movements seemed to make him dizzy, he reached over to give Gaddes a sharp shake and was rewarded with a low groan of protest.  A quick glance revealed that while he had ben divested of weapons, Gaddes hadn’t been.  Idiots.  Whoever their jailors were, they certainly deserved to have their throats slit. 

“Fanelian, get up before the guards come back.”  He growled softly, giving Gaddes a sharp jab with his elbow.

Blinking his eyes, and struggling to put them into focus, Gaddes saw that Dilandau was somehow sitting up.  His skin still had a greyish cast to it and he was trembling visibly, beads of sweat standing out on his brow, but the kid was still leaning over Gaddes rather protectively, a familiar looking knife clutched in his hands.

                “What the… that’s my knife!”  The crewman gasped, reaching over to grab at it only to have the brat shift just enough to keep it out of his reach.  “You took my damn knife!?”  Those crimson eyes didn’t even flicker in his direction, instead Dilandau seemed to be studying every inch of the room from where they lay on the bed, seeking out any possible threat before shifting from his position.

                “Of course I did.  Someone took mine and I don’t see my sword.  Were we captured?”  Gaddes glanced around, unsure as to what might make Dilandau believe that they were in enemy hands.  Seeing only the plush opulence of the bedroom, the older man felt more than a little confused.  It seemed that despite Van’s assurances, there were still some rather powerful drugs coursing through the kids system, or he’d taken a few knocks on the head during the fight.  Granted, he was also willing to bet that Dilandau had never before found himself in a girl’s bedroom over the course of his illustrious career.   With this in mind, he bit back several rather snarky retorts, instead choosing to flop back down onto the bed.

                “Been in a lot of pink painted cells with soft fluffy blankets, cute stuffed toys and pictures of flowers on the walls?”  Perhaps he hadn’t managed to bit back all of the snark.  Now the kid glanced at him, looking both unsure and confused… not to mention more than a little nauseous.  The knife in his hand began to wobble dangerously.

                “I don’t know… I’ve found that I’ve been finding myself in a lot of strange places…lately.”  Dilandau admitted, feeling his headache grow with every beat of his heart.  It was growing intolerably hot in the room and the spinning was getting worse the longer he sat upright.  Dammit!  He had to push through this!  He wasn’t weak like that little kid, like those failed experiments!  He was Dilandau Albatou!  He gave entire armies nightmares!

                Unless this was a nightmare as well?  Maybe the Madoushi had captured them after all.  Dimly he remembered seeing a tall shadowed figure standing over Gaddes, the shine of sunlight on a needle shaped cylinder.  Had they taken him apart again?  Was he still himself?  Maybe he was still lying there on a table, a blinding light shining above him as they all crowded around him… touching him, hurting him and staring at him as if he was nothing.  What had they done to him this time?

More sweat was glistening on his pale brow and Gaddes frowned as he watched the shivering albino grow greyer by the second, his skin now taking on a rather greenish hue.  Those crimson eyes were glassy and unfocussed, warning that the mind behind them likely wasn’t functioning properly either.  Honestly, the kid looked all sorts of hung over.  Experience had prepared the older man for what was most likely about to happen after his own stomachs rather spectacular reaction to the darts drugs. 

“I… I’m still a guy right?”  Dilandau murmured vaguely.  “I don’t want to be her… she’s covered in snot and it’s disgusting.”  This might have been an amusing if somewhat confusing statement that he could tease the youth about late, but the kid did actually have a valid concern there considering his past.  Rather than answer the question with the rather obvious answer, Gaddes reached over and picked up the bucket that Alberto had so thoughtfully left them with.  The slight weight was still enough to pull at the stitches warningly, making him grunt softly as he handed it to Dilandau who simply stared at it, utterly baffled as to what he was expected to do with it.

                “You’re going to be sick.”  He advised.  “Throw up in here please.”  Comprehension dawned and the look he got could have peeled flesh from screaming bodies.  Rather than back off, he gave the bucket a little enticing shake.  It was high time that the brat learned that he wasn’t going to be able to bull his way through every weakness of injury his body was going to throw at him.  As far as Gaddes was concerned, this was a rather gentle lesson considering the mind boggling levels of stupid the kid had indulged in over the course of the day.

                “I don’t throw up.”  Dilandau snapped waspishly just as his eyes widened and he snatched the bucket from Gaddes’ hands, nearly cutting him with the damn knife he still refused to drop.   He barely got it propped up against his chest before his body did its best to turn him inside out.  If he’d thought that he’d felt miserable before, it had nothing on how he felt now.  Clearly he was dying and the bastard next to him was trying not to grin at his suffering!

                The crewman politely averted his eyes as his lover emptied the contents of his stomach into the bucket.  Rather than pull away as Dilandau most likely wished he would, he instead wrapped an arm around the suddenly frail seeming form, helping him stay upright when his swaying grew too pronounced.  With gentle hands, he rubbed the youths straining back, offering what comfort he could, just the way Dilandau had with him back at the lake.  Naturally, the chances of him getting punched for his efforts once the kid finished emptying his guts were rather high.  Still, he couldn’t just abandon him, no matter how much the brats pride might demand it.

                “It’s ok.  You just keep not throwing up.”  He was grinning widely and knew it.  Worse, so did Dilandau, thereby sealing his future punched out fate but at this moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.  All that mattered was that the albino was awake and clearing the poisons from his body.  Despite all the odds, he was going to be ok.  They both were, and if that wasn’t worth a little celebration, he didn’t know what was.  Still, he was a little worried that since Dilandau hadn’t eaten much over the course of the day, he very well might hurt himself with the force of the purging his body was undergoing.  He was already dry heaving, only a thin yellow stream of bile passing his lips despite the force of the muscle contractions. 

Picking up a glass of water that had been left for him, he gently pressed it into a pale trembling hand.  Not trusting Dilandau’s grip at the moment, he helped guide it to the youths pale greyish lips and was met with no resistance.  The boy didn’t even have the energy to glare at him. 

                “Drink this.”  He said gently in answer to the bleary eyed look of confusion he got.  “It won’t stay down but it will keep you from hurting yourself while you don’t throw up.”  Rebellion sparked in the depths of those beautiful eyes, but there was no heat behind it.  Instead, Dilandau obediently tilted his head back slightly, allowing Gaddes to help him drink.  The older man was going to only let him take small short sips, but when he tried to pull the cup away, Dilandau all but growled at him, tilting his head back more and swallowing a good portion of the water out of sheer spite.    He looked proud of himself for a whole two seconds before the water his hit stomach and was promptly sent right back out from where it had come. 

                “Don’t give me that glare.”  Gaddes chided his lover gently.  “I tried to give you small sips.  This is on all on your head brat.  Next time listen to the voice of experience.”  It was likely a good thing that Dilandau was clutching the bucket so tightly or else he was pretty sure that knife would have been thrown at him.  Jeture, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Dilandau look so utterly pathetic as he did now.  Well, likely the first few hours of his re-emergence had topped it, but he was trying rather hard to block out that horrible memory.  Instead, he focussed on indulging his inner caregiver and gently combed his fingers through those sweaty silver locks, helping to keep them out of the kids face.

                “The same thing happened to me.”  He explained gently, hoping to soothe the kids temper in case he decided to throw a tantrum before his body was able to handle it.  “I think it’s from whatever was in those darts.  It was some powerful stuff.  My head’s still woozy and we were shot hours ago.  You’ve been out for most of the day.”  There was no real way to tell if the kid was even listening, but he figured that just hearing his voice was likely helping to keep Dilandau calm.

                It was several long minutes later when the albino, looking paler than Gaddes ever thought possible, relaxed his strangle hold on the bucket and simply sagged against Gaddes, breathing heavily.  He could feel the boy’s heart racing as it struggled to recover from the intense purging. 

He fully expected to see Dilandau slump back down onto the bed, but it seemed that the kid had other ideas and was looking around for something, a look of disgust plastered across his lovely face.

“W….wa…ter.”  Pale lips struggled to form the words and the usually velvety smooth voice was broken sounding.  Nodding his head, Gaddes was already pressing the glass back into the boy’s hand and holding it steady for him to drink.  This time he took small cautious sips, not wanting a repeat of the last time.  How about that, the kid could be taught common sense! 

Once he had rinsed his mouth out, spitting the water back into the foul bucket, Gaddes took the glass away and replaced it with a damp towel, knowing that Dilandau’s fastidious nature would demand a removal of any evidence of him being sick.  The towel was cool to the touch, likely a good thing considering the sweat still beading his brow and Gaddes took great care in making sure that any trace of sweat, grime and vomit was carefully removed. 

It was only after he was clean and his mouth rinsed that Gaddes handed him a fresh glass full of water, this one bearing small sprigs of mint floating around it.  Really, whatever Alberto was being paid, it wasn’t nearly enough.

                Once he was occupied with the challenging task of holding the glass, something he now insisted on doing himself, Gaddes carefully picked up the bucket and lowered it to the floor, hissing softly at the weight as it traced new lines of fire down his injured side.  The towel was tossed carefully over it in an attempt to keep the smell at bay until Alberto could come and remove it.

                Through it all, Dilandau had kept clutching the knife in his right hand and his eyes never left the door of the room.  Clearly he was still expecting someone to come bursting through at any moment and attack them in their weakened state.

                “Relax, we’re safe.”  Gaddes murmured, leaning forward slightly and placing a gentle kiss on Dilandau’s shoulder.  Unsurprisingly, he was shrugged off weakly with a low warning growl.  The kid was far too wary to be interested in such things when there was even the hint of physical danger.

                “Where are we?”  He finally murmured softly.  Whatever had been in that water had made him feel a little better.  The room still spun at disturbing speeds and his body was unacceptably weak, but at least his stomach seemed to be settling.  There was nothing he wanted to do more than just curl up against Gaddes and lose himself in the warm security of his arms, but he couldn’t indulge in such feebleness.   It was unacceptable behavior for a soldier in this sort of situation.  Their first priority had to be escape.  That was easier said than done.  No matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, the very idea of getting up and walking through the door at the far end of the room was more than a little daunting. 

                “Astoria still.  This is the Schezar Manor.  Welcome home.”  He managed a weak smile as Dilandau scoffed at the proclamation, not sounding the least bit impressed.  At least that explained the bouquet of fresh flowers by the bed and the frills on everything, though he still didn’t trust those fluffy things in the corners. Why the hell did they have to stare at him like that?  Were they some sort of strange security system?

                “This isn’t my home.”  He growled softly, his fingers tightening around the knife once more.  “I told that stupid brat I didn’t want to come here.”  Ignoring Gaddes’ look of confusion, he studied this surroundings suspiciously and when realization hit, he almost wanted the bucket back.  “This is HER room isn’t it?” 

                Gaddes refrained from answering, though his fingers renewed their stroking of his hair in an obvious attempt to keep him calm.  Damn Fanelian, trying to manipulate him!  He’d knock the hand away if it didn’t feel so damnably good.  It made him want to close his eyes and lean a little more against that firm warm body, letting someone else protect him for a while. 

                Feeling Dilandau’s weight press against him a little more firmly, Gaddes followed the cues and continued his ministrations, pleased that he’d discovered one of the volatile youth’s hidden weaknesses.

                “I don’t wanna be here.”  Dilandau  mubled muzzily as the knife was slowly lowered to the bed.  Despite his exhaustion, he still managed to sound utterly disgusted with the situation.  “Fluffy things are staring at me… watching.  Need to blind them, teach them … a lesson.”  Yeah, he was definitely going to remind the brat later about threatening stuffed toys, it was just too damn cute to forget. 

                “How… how did we get here?”  The voice was little more than a whisper, the knife now resting on the edge of the mattress and Gaddes watched as those slender fingers slowly loosened their grip on the handle.              

“Last… thing I remember… you… you were … you were hurt?”  Those last words were sharp with accusation, shattering the growing tranquility of the moment.  The fingers tightened on the knife and Dilandau somehow twisted himself around to face Gaddes, even though the action made him grow pale and dizzy once again.  Without asking permission, he began running his hands over the older man’s body with clinical detachment, examining every bruise and cut until he reached the long line of stitches trailing their way up his side.  Bleary crimson eyes seemed to gain dangerous focus as they glared at the wound accusingly.  Soft sensual lips thinned warningly as those eyes rose up, fixing their wrathful glare on Gaddes.  The darker man knew that he was in for a rather brutal lecture, likely involving things being thrown, blistering insults and likely even a few slaps if the kid had the energy for it. 

Too bad for the brat that Gaddes had had the entire afternoon staring at his lifeless body to work up his own head of mad and he wasn’t about to let Dilandau beat him to the punch.  He was going to vent and vent hard on the little psychopath and the kid had damn well better be recovered enough to deal with it because he was sick of pulling his punches. 

                “Yes I was hurt and YOU were lucky you weren’t killed!  What were you thinking?!”  He jabbed a finger into Dilandau’s chest, nearly knocking the teenager backwards.   The albino’s shock was obvious judging by the widened eyes and the slack jaw.  Chances were good that few people had ever dared to talk back to him quite like this.  Fewer had likely done so and walked away afterwards.  Fine time for him to remember that.  Still, Gaddes had gone this far and had no intention of stopping until he’d said all there was to say on the matter. 

 “You took out a melef then attacked a guymelef!  A fucking guymelef armed only with a damned sword!”  There was no point in trying to be civil about this, it was doomed to turn into a yelling match and be damned if he’d let the brat take control of it right from the get go.  Of course, sick and drugged, Dilandau still wasn’t the sort to simply roll over and take a verbal tongue lashing from someone he considered to be an inferior warrior.  The instant he got past his initial shock, he leaned forward, smoldering eyes narrowing dangerously as his weakness was forgotten in favour of attacking the idiot daring to stand up to him.

                “I was protecting you ,you ungrateful bastard!”  Dilandau shot back heatedly.  His voice gained strength with every word and his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Gaddes’ hair and pulling him close until they were almost nose to nose.  His lips pulled back from his teeth in a menacing snarl that would have normally made any sane man beg for mercy.  Even Gaddes himself would normally back off at this point, surrendering with some joking quip, hoping to mollify his volatile lover. 

Not this time.  Dark eyes flashed angrily as he thought about how Dilandau had looked laying there at the foot of a grave, covered in blood and unmoving.  He thought about how he’d seen the teenager recklessly challenge the giant war machine, too lost in his berserker rage to realize he was staring death in the face.  Gaddes was under no illusions that the only reason Dilandau was still alive was that their enemies wanted him captured, not killed.  Today had been the worst and best day of his life all rolled into one, all because of this fierce teenager and he wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

                Before Gaddes realized what he’d done, he’d knocked the grabbing hand away and took full advantage of Dilandau’s  weakness to shove him down on the bed, using his greater weight to keep the damn brat there despite his struggles and screeching curses.  Pain flared up along his side, warning that he was moving around far too much for his stitches to handle.  There was a warm wetness trickling across his skin, but he ignored it.  Right now all that mattered was trying to drill common sense into his young lover.

                “No!”  He all but yelled in Dilandau’s face, meeting that fearsome glare with one of his own.  “You don’t get to knock me around like one of your Dragonslayers.  I’m not scared of you and I’m not going to sit back quietly as you go off and do something utterly stupid and suicidal like that!  So help me, if you EVER do anything like that again I will beat the ever loving shit out of you myself!”  Jeture help him, he was actually seeing red!  With every word he spoke, his fear felt more real and his heart pounded frantically against his ribs.  He could hear Dilandau’s screams in his mind and see him charging death incarnate despite the utter lost cause it was.  His body covered in blood with half a dozen drug coated shafts sticking out of him.  It was a living nightmare he never ever wanted to live through again and in Dilandau’s weakened state, this was likely the only chance he was going to get to force him to listen.

                “Get your hands off me Fanelian or you’ll be learning to breathe without a windpipe.”  Dilandau snarled, his eyes struggling to stay focussed on him.  The world spun crazily around them and he could barely move beneath the weight of the larger man.  Rather than surrendering, this only spurred him onwards, dredging up his iron will and the knowledge that there was no surrender for people like him.  There was only victory or death, and he had no intention of dying today. 

Still, mind didn’t always win over matter and though he was fully prepared to fight with his last ounce of strength, that last ounce wasn’t nearly enough to throw the heavier man off of him.  It was something Gaddes was quick to take advantage of, pressing him harder into the bed.  It was a position he might very well enjoy if he wasn’t in such a fury.

Gaddes felt bad for taking such advantage of the situation and part of him felt a sort of pity for the look of thwarted rage on Dilandau’s face as he struggled helplessly to throw him off.  Of course, that pity faded quickly when the kid actually lunged upward, sharp teeth snapping shut a hairs breadth form his face.   He remembered belatedly that the kid had no qualms about using his teeth as weapons and he’d damn well seen how lethal he could be with those.  Pulling back sharply, he ended up loosening his hold on the boy’s right hand… the hand holding his knife. 

It was amazing to see how fast Dilandau actually was when properly motivated and before Gaddes could blink, he felt the press of cold steel against his throat, reminding him of his short sightedness.  Really, at this point, he knew that he’d pretty much goaded the kid into violence and could very well die in the next few moments.  Wouldn’t that just be his luck?   

Still, he couldn’t afford to as much as flinch despite the rather high probability of death.  It wasn’t just his life on the line here.  They were in the middle of a worst case scenario what with being in Palas, while sick and injured.  The only way they could possibly top this off was by being in the middle of the Fanelian royal palace.  Worst of all, Allen wasn’t on hand to keep the worst of Dilandau’s temper reined in.  Van certainly wasn’t going to be any help in that department, so it was all up to Gaddes himself to keep things under control.  Either he stepped up, or just watched everything go down in flames…likely literally. 

                “If you’re going to do it, then do it.”  He said softly, not letting his eyes waver for even a moment.  It was impressive how calm he managed to keep himself though inwardly he was babbling out prayers to Jeture to get him the hell out of this situation.  “I’m not backing off and I’m not dropping the subject.  What you did was stupid beyond words.  What the hell were you trying to accomplish?  A glorious death?”

                “I COULDN’T WATCH YOU DIE!”  Dilandau shrieked in his face, his eyes glowing from within for a moment before returning to their familiar rich red.  The knife against his throat trembled minutely for a moment as Dilandau struggled against his own inner turmoil.  Those beautiful eyes narrowed and Gaddes was almost positive that he’d finally run out of luck and pushed the kid too far.  He heard Dilandau let out an inhuman shriek, but rather than slit his throat, he plunged the blade of the knife deep into the bedding before throwing back his head and yowling like a wounded animal.  Pale hands pressed tightly against his eyes and for a moment, Gaddes was worried that he was actually trying to claw out his eyes, but those sharp little nails stayed clear of his skin.  “I couldn’t watch you die!”  He repeated at a much less ear shattering volume though the pain still reverberated through the words. 

                As quickly as the violence had erupted, it flowed away, leaving behind a weakened pale boy in its wake.  Gaddes watched him warily, those mood swings still tended to shock him but he had a feeling that the worst had passed.  Somehow, he’d survived yet again, but in the wake of Dilandau’s rage, the unhealed scabs had been torn off of those deep wounds inside him.  Gaddes could almost see his soul bleeding as he lay there.

                “They all die… all of them.  And I just watched.”  The hands were slowly lowered, and Dilandau stared up at the ceiling with its brilliantly painted flowers.  Judging by the blankness of his eyes, it was doubtful if he even saw them.  His mind was elsewhere, trapped in a much darker place.  “I just stood there watching as that demon armour cut them apart in front of me.  I didn’t raise a hand; I didn’t say a thing as they screamed my name… I just watched…”  Gingerly, Dilandau reached up and stroked the scar marring his cheek, his fingers shaking from the storm of emotions tearing through him.  “I loved them… and I let them die.  I didn’t deserve them.  I didn’t deserve their devotion.  All I did was get them killed.  All of them, every single one.  I promised them glory and delivered them into death.  I couldn’t do that again.  I couldn’t lose anyone else.”

                He’d loved them all so much and it haunted him that he’d never been able to say it to any of them, not even in death could he be that honest with himself.  It was all just cruel fate really, his own twisted destiny written by the Madoushi.  Schezar had said that love had saved Gaea.  Van and Hitomi had saved the world with their love.  Schezar’s love for his sister had pulled her to the forefront of their mind, casting Dilandau into nothingness against all odds… but his love… it had done nothing but get his friends killed.  It hadn’t brought them back; it hadn’t saved any of them.  Maybe the Madoushi were right and he really wasn’t a person… maybe what he felt wasn’t real enough for the powers around them to recognize.  Maybe he really was a monster and unlike with everyone else, his love was a curse.  Dammit, what the hell had those Madoushi fucks drugged him with?!

                Gaddes wanted desperately to hold onto his anger, but between those heartfelt words and the utterly lost look on Dilandau’s face, he found himself instead stroking those damn silver white locks of hair instead.

                “I couldn’t lose you either Dilandau.  You need to understand that.”  Those eyes finally seemed to focus on him and for a brief moment, he saw the anguish, the fear, the desolation and devotion in their depths.  It left him breathless for a long moment as he felt something ache deep inside his chest.   “There are people here who care about you deeply and it would kill us to not have you with us.  There was no way I could run away and leave you to face all of them alone.  I’d never get over that and I’d never forgive myself.”  He sighed deeply and shifted his weight off of the youth, lying down next to him and gently pulling him into his arms.  This time Dilandau didn’t resist, he continued to stare at Gaddes as if he hung on his every word.  Fingers continued to stroke that beautiful hair and little by little, he could feel that slender body relax against his own.   “When I woke up and saw you just lying there covered in blood and not moving… Jeture, that was the worst moment of my life.  I was terrified that I’d lost you and I would have done anything, given anything to have you back.”

                With those words, he leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to Dilandau’s, drinking in their silken fire touched softness and the gentle caress of his breath.  For a perfect and beautiful moment, Dilandau melted against him with a soft moan of desire that seemed to come from his entire body.  Those glorious lips returned the kiss, radiating such incredible warmth that Gaddes could actually imagine a fire being passed between them.  It rode on their tongues as they languidly traced across each other, exploring with touches full of promise.

It didn’t last even a fraction as long as Gaddes wanted, and he felt himself moan as Dilandau pulled away.  His lips were deliciously darkened and his pupils so wide that only a faint ring of crimson framed their darkness.

                “I don’t need a mother hen.”  He stated breathily, no doubt attempting to sound firm and authoritative.  It took away from his statement somewhat that he was tracing the tip of his tongue over his lips, savouring the taste of Gaddes’ mouth.  “What I need is a lover, a partner who can keep up with me and not balk over what needs to be done.  I’m not going to stop fighting or taking risks just because I might get hurt.  I have to fight, I was made for battle and I love it too much to stop.”

                “Yeah?”  Gaddes shot back challengingly.  “Well I want a lover who understands that I’m not going to sit back quietly when they decide to take stupid risks.  I have no problem with you fighting Dilandau; in fact, I’ll be the first to admit that you’re amazing to watch, especially when you get going.  There is however a huge difference between being in a battle and trying to fight a small army on your own.  You want to fight a guymelef?  That’s great, but you’d damn well better be in one yourself when you do it.  You don’t want to lose me and I don’t want to lose you either.”  He smiled slightly at that beautiful face in front of him, wanting so badly to kiss him again, but knowing that he had to make sure that the ground rules were firmly established, because he wasn’t ever going to go through that again. 

                Dilandau wasn’t nearly so picky and pulled him into yet another soul searing kiss, eagerly exploring his mouth even as slender arms wrapped around his body, urging him closer.  A long leg slid up along his thigh playfully, letting him feel his lover’s arousal, hiding behind little more than a few thin layers of clothing.

“So… you’re saying that if I’m in my Alseides, I can fight as many guymelefs as I want?”  He asked between kisses.  That familiar daring grin was back and he knew the brat would hold him to whatever he agreed to in this moment.

“Within reason.”  Gaddes amended, leaning forward slightly to enjoy more of those deliriously addictive kisses, pleased beyond words that they seemed to have finally overcome this hurdle.   “And they’d better be bad guys.” 

“Mmmmm but I’m a bad guy.” 

“Badder guys.”  With a soft chuckle from the albino, the kiss was returned eagerly as the teenagers hips arched up, rubbing their firm shafts together despite the barrier of their clothing.  The rolling movements were slow and sensual, sending sparks of lightning down the length of Gaddes’ spine as he thrust back gently only to feel the sharp pain of his stitches pulling even more.  He was precariously close to not caring about further damaging himself if it meant being able to bury himself deeply inside that brilliant body.  Any price he had to pay would be worth it.  Besides, he deserved this reward.  Not only had he averted a crisis, but he was rather sure that in their own strange way, they’d admitted to caring deeply for each other. 

After this afternoon’s action, there really was no way that either male could stand back and claim that this was nothing more than a simple fling.  Not that he minded.  He was quickly finding that he truly desired the presence of the frustrating youth, no matter how mad the brat drove him.  He’d never met anyone as wild and passionate as Dilandau.  Even the dangerous mood swings thrilled him as nothing else ever had.  Without the pale youth, his life felt dull, empty and strangely unfulfilled. 

“So…. Where does that leave us?”  Dilandau murmured lightly against his lips.  His voice was soft and breathless with desire as his hips continued their torturous rocking, each movement stroking the fires of Gaddes’ need.  A slender hand slid down his back, stroking playfully at the waist of his trousers before deftly beginning to unfasten his belt buckle.  

A rather loud knock sounded against the door, shattering the growing heat of the moment.  Startled, Gaddes sat up so quickly that he jostled Dilandau roughly on the bed, earning himself several rather blistering insults as the albino brushed his hair out of his face.

“What- Dammit! Ouch!”  Pain flared up along Gaddes’ injured side at the sudden movement and he clutched at his wound for a moment, biting back a long string of curses.  Dilandau was no help of course.  He simply lay back on the bed, looking both annoyed and smug at the same time.  Worse, he was till grinding playfully against Gaddes, forcing the man to pointedly put space between them and giving him an admonishing glare which was promptly ignored.

“Serves you right old man.  Move slower, remember that you’re fragile.”  Oh the brat was going to get it one day.  He didn’t know how or when, but one day, revenge would be his.   Until then, the pigmentally challenged imp was going to just keep on lying there and DAMMIT his knife was gone again!  He was never going to see it again, he just knew it.

The knock sounded on the door again, this time managing to sound impatient.

“If he’s killed you Gaddes, I told you so!”  Van called from the other side of the door, earning a snicker from Dilandau.

“You should let him know you’re alive before he kicks down the door to rescue you from my foul clutches or does something else equally heroic.”

“I’m not getting off this bed.  I’m injured, remember?  Not to mention, I’m not exactly in a fit state to have company thanks to you.”  He grumbled, giving his crotch a rather pointed glare.

“Oh poor big bad Fanelian.  It looks all painful and swollen.  Shall I kiss it better?”  Dilandau replied sweetly, pouting just enough to look utterly mind-blowingly sexy before handing Gaddes one of his pillows to place over his lap.  “There, don’t say I never do anything for you.”   His voice was a low seductive purr, at odds with the grin slowly spreading across his face as he looked back at the door.

 “Either kick down the door like a good barbarian or go away.”  Dilandau then called out to the waiting king, mischief glinting in his eyes.  Rather than doing either, Van simply tried the knob and the door opened easily, revealing a somewhat annoyed looking king of Fanelia standing there with his sword ready to be drawn.  Behind him was the shape of a lurking taller figure.

“I was coming up to check on your wounds and heard screaming.  It seemed safe to assume that Dilandau was awake.”  Van grumbled, walking into the room and favouring the zaibach youth with a dark look which was promptly returned.  Gaddes noted that while his stance was relaxed, the king hadn’t taken his hand away from the sword.  Normally he’d call Van on it, but seeing as how he didn’t know where Dilandau had hidden the knife, he was willing to let the two teenagers be on equal antagonistic ground.  Granted, he was only ready to put up with so much alpha male bluster from either brat, and he was well over his quota today.

“Oh don’t either of you start with that crap.”  Gaddes grumbled.  “I have been through enough today without you both getting your backs up.  Behave or I’ll slap both of you.”  That at least earned him two rather incredulous looks.  “You might as well come in too Palos, I can see you by the door.”

“That skinny Astorian is here too?  Dammit, is he haunting me or something?”  Dilandau murmured, sounding almost impressed as he shifted to properly size up the messenger who was easing his way into the room and looking somewhat nervous.

“Don’t eat him.”  Gaddes smiled down at the silver haired youth and pretended not to feel the playful jab against his spine.

“What do you want Van?”  Dilandau spoke up, unable to quite keep the challenging tone from his voice.  He didn’t like feeling weak and disoriented while his worst enemy stood there whole and hale nearby.  Hidden from view on the side of the bed, he clutched the knife in his hand, ready to bring it into action if required.  As if he could sense the hidden weapon, Van didn’t approach the bed.  Instead, he stood there in the middle of the room and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the two on the bed coolly.

“I already said why I was here.  How are you feeling?” 

“Like I could burn down a small country without breaking a sweat.”  Dilandau couldn’t help the gin of challenge which spread across his face, openly daring the king to try to attack him.  If the look Van gave him was anything to go by, he was seriously considering it.

“Try to show some respect.”  Gaddes snapped before Van could even open his mouth.  The darker man glared over at his lover sternly, not at all impressed with his rude display.  “Van is the reason you’re conscious right now rather than still in a coma.  He didn’t have to help you, but he volunteered and even picked the medicine while he was carrying your unconscious ass on his back.”  Though Dilandau didn’t apologize, he did shut up, opting to simply glare at the king silently, his mind trying to work out what his enemy’s angle was in healing him.  The idea of the Fanelian doing anything to help him was about as absurd as Dilandau himself acting to save his life.

Feeling that it was finally safe to remove the pillow from his crotch, He tossed it in on the bed, mindful to not hit Dilandau and give the brat a reason to go ballistic.  Gingerly, Gaddes slid off of the bed and carefully walked towards the young king, mindful of his balance which was still a little wobbly.  Damn those darts packed a punch, and the brat had taken far more of the things than he had.  It was impressive that he’d been able to move around as much as he had… no, best not to think about how he’d moved around, not with Van standing in front of him.

“Where’s Alberto?”  The crewman asked instead, more than a little surprised that the manservant wasn’t in attendance.  Van simply shrugged and examined the stitches with a critical eye, frowning as he did so.  From his place on the bed, Dilandau watched the interaction, looking deceptively calm.

“He’s overseeing dinner and mentioned something about proper clothes and a bath for you both… can’t say I blame him.  What’s that stink?”  All eyes turned towards the bucket on the floor and Dilandau grumbled something under his breath that didn’t sound complimentary.

“Not vomit.”  Gaddes offered helpfully and was actually rather surprised that a pillow wasn’t thrown at his head for that, but of course, that would likely reveal just how weak and disoriented the brat actually was, and there’d be no way he’d allow that in front of his nemesis.  Van quirked a dark eyebrow in confusion but instead simply nodded his head, accepting the answer.

“You’ve pulled some of the stitches.  I thought you were told to lay still?”

“He’s terrible at following orders.”  Dilandau put in helpfully, smiling with exaggerated sweetness up at Gaddes.  Taking a page from the zaibach captain’s book, Gaddes flipped him that strange hand gesture he’d seen the kid do several times and earned himself a rather delighted laugh.   

“Like you’re one to talk, brat.”  Van and Palos looked at each other in confusion.  Neither had thought the fierce albino was capable of laughter that wasn’t full of madness and the promise of death.  This sound was almost human. 

“Have you both been drinking the water?  Neither Alberto or I know what they hit you with in those darts, but flushing your system out is likely the safest bet.”  Van advised.  “Actually, considering how badly they overdosed you, plus that energy net, I’m amazed that you’re looking as healthy as you are Dilandau.”  He had to add, fully aware that anyone else would have either still been in a coma or curled up around the bucket vomiting out their internal organs. 

“It’s the same formulae they always use.”  The pale youth murmured with a nonchalant shrug.  “My system can usually handle it but the idiots panicked and hit me with more than usual.”  He sighed dramatically and ran his fingers through his hair, more than a little disgusted at how filthy it was.  “If they’d just died properly like good little rodents then none of this would have been a problem.”

“Well, most sane people panic when a psycho attacks a melef.”  It was hard to tell if Van meant that as some sort of joke or was simply being snide.  Dilandau chose not to take offense to it and made a soft sound of amusement.

“Psht, they panic when a psycho attacks a melef and wins!  It was the guymelef that was giving me problems.  Details Van, it’s all in the details.”  Palos watched their interaction with ever widening eyes.  By this point, he was pretty sure that the zaibach demon honestly was insane, but he was also beginning to doubt the sanity of the Fanelian King, at least when he was around the pale boy.  One thing was for certain, neither of these kids were normal by any stretch of the imagination.  It terrified him that they were here in Palas right now with really no way to control the monster on the bed.  Inwardly, he was cursing himself for being too cowardly to simply plunge a knife into this throat while the demon had been unconscious.  Now, even weakened, he was sure that he’d be killed if he made that attempt.  All he could do now was trust in his strange benefactors.  They would stop the monster… only, they’d failed hadn’t they?

Unsure of what to do, the messenger decided to stick with his plan of staying close and making himself useful.  Seeing that the two glasses by the bed were empty, he quickly poured some water from the pitcher into them, offering one to Gaddes and one to Dilandau, doing his best to keep his hand from shaking on the latter.

Gaddes smiled as he took the cup and drank heartily from it.  Dilandau on the other hand glared at it for a long moment before slowly moving himself into a sitting position.  He did his best to make the movements seem fluid and easy, but there was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow from his efforts and he was breathing a little harder than normal.  Angry at himself for his weakness, he snatched the glass from Palos’ hand and drank deeply.  The mint was a nice touch, it made his mouth feel somewhat cleaner, though personally, he’d kill for a toothbrush right about now.

“So, what’s the plan?”  Gaddes looked over at Van as he spoke, making the albino bristle slightly at the idea that the Fanelian king might be the one in charge.  There was no way he was taking orders from that barbarian pipsqueak!  At least Van looked suitably surprised by this as well but it did little to mollify the Dragonslayer and he made sure to give Gaddes a sharp kick as he shifted to adjust the pillow behind his back.

“Well, depending on how you both are doing, I wanted to put as much information as possible together and then talk to Hitomi.  The Mystic Moon is rising and she can likely help us figure out how to deal with all of this.  She might even see a thing that we’ve missed… which at this point sounds like just about everything.”

“Yes… the little bitch is good at seeing what’s hidden isn’t she.”  Dilandau sneered softly, his eyes narrowing dangerously.  Though he stills sounded calm, Gaddes could feel how he’d suddenly grown utterly still, like a predator waiting to pounce.  Barely restrained violence radiated from him in palpable waves.

“Don’t call her that.”  Van snapped heatedly.  “She’s a good person and is likely one of the few people on Gaea willing to speak on your behalf.”

“Of course.”  Dilandau smiled with poisonous sweetness, doing his best to look perfectly harmless and failing miserably.  “I’d love to have her help.  When will she be arriving?”  Both Gaddes and Van exchanged somewhat uncomfortable looks with each other.  Neither was fooled and knew that the instant the albino saw her, he’d do his best to tear her apart, ally or not.  It made the king glad for the first time ever that she was well out of all of their reach.  

“She’s still on the Mystic Moon.”  Van confided somewhat nervously, hating to reveal something as intimate as their mental conversations.  “But… we can hear each other sometimes when the Mystic Moon is close.” 

This time Dilandau didn’t even bother to hide his sneer.

“Awww how sweet.  So she abandoned you as soon as the war was over.”  His sneer turned into a rather wide smirk when he saw that his bard had hit its mark.  “Ah, so you cared for her.  That must have hurt seeing her chasing after Schezar like a dog in heat.” 

“Dilandau, that’s enough.  Try to be civil for a few minutes at least.”  Gaddes snapped sharply, earning himself a sullen glare.

“Fine fine, whatever.  So this bit-er… this girl can use those freaky abilities of hers to snoop on our enemies?  Good, let’s use her.”  He shot Gaddes a snide look.  “Better?”  The crewman just rolled his eyes and focussed back on Van who was doing his best not to punch the albino in the face.  “So talk to her already, the Mystic Moon is up right?”  Dilandau waved his hand in Van’s direction, wondering why some people had such a hard time following simple instructions.  Clearly the king hadn’t been the brains behind their little war effort and the Dragonslayer began to wonder if he should perhaps use smaller words.

“It… works better when I can see the moon.”  Van finally admitted and all eyes turned to look out the room’s large window.  While the view of the gardens and surrounding forest was likely rather lovely during the day, it was of little use at night.  Neither moon would be visible from this angle at all.  It figured that the stupid useless girl would have a useless room.  

“We can see the moons from the parlour by the rose garden.”  Palos murmured quietly, as if afraid to draw attention to himself.  “There’s also enough chairs for everyone to sit, and Alberto said that he’d keep everyone out of the area so there’s no chance of Dilandau being seen by the staff.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement though Gaddes again felt Dilandau stiffen slightly against him and realized that he likely wasn’t in any shape to walk the length of the room let alone down the long hallway and a set of stairs.  Foolishly, he opened his mouth and spoke before fully thinking his words through.

“You can lean on me if you need to kid.”  He was only trying to be helpful, but the look he got was downright murderous.  You’d think that he’d offered to hold the brats prick while he took a piss. 

“I can walk just fine.”  Dilandau all but spat out, his eyes narrowing into smoldering crimson slits.  He gave Gaddes a sharp kick in lieu of asking him to get off the bed and before anyone could stop him, the weakened captain grit his teeth and shifted around on the bed, forcing his exhausted and abused body to move.  Both Palos and Gaddes stared in shock as the stubborn teenager managed to manoeuver, pulling the blankets with him.  While the others likely thought it was for modesty, the crewman knew damn well that it was to hide the blade he no doubt was fully intending to carry with him through the house.  Though the motions looked simple enough, everyone could see how he trembled with exhaustion with every movement. 

At one point Gaddes stepped forward to offer him an arm but quickly stepped back at the look he was given.  They’d been around each other long enough to know when a glance was simply a moody display or a serious warning, and right now, Dilandau was determined to walk on his own or fall flat on his face.  At this rate, the latter was the more likely outcome.

Palos wisely took a step back, just in case Dilandau thought he was trying to help and murdered him for his effort, offering to head down first and get a nice fire going for them.  Van chose to stay, deciding that since he wasn’t allowed to fight the Dragonslayer Captain, he might as well enjoy watching his suffering. 

He watched as Dilandau slowly stood up, swaying badly as he held onto the edge of the bed and carefully placed his feet on the floor.  His knees buckled beneath his weight and he snarled loudly as he struggled to keep upright, but it seemed that even he had limits.  As he slowly sank to the ground, Gaddes decided that enough was enough.  He stepped forward and reached an arm around the youth’s slim waist, taking most of his weight without making it overtly obvious.

“It’s either this or you go back to bed.  You decide because I’m not going to stand here and let you hurt yourself out of sheer pigheadedness.  We’ve been over this.”  He chided gently.  At least this time the glare aimed at him lacked true murderous intent.

“Though… you just said I … couldn’t fight Guymelefs w- without my own.”  Dilandau argued through clenched teeth, forcing a leg forward in a rather wobbly step.  Had Gaddes not been holding him, he’d have never managed the motion and it grated on him horribly.  Worse, Van was seeing all of it and likely laughing at him. 

A quick glance over in the direction of the king showed that yes, his nemesis was watching, though he didn’t look at all amused.  Instead, Van was honestly rather impressed at the sheer determination he was seeing.  No wonder this enemy had managed to always be on his tail, hounding him no matter how well hidden they’d been, always on the front line of any attack. 

It took nearly half an hour for Dilandau to stubbornly make his way inch by inch to the parlour, but he practically grinned in triumph as he reached his goal.  No one dared to comment on how the sweat was pouring off of his shaking body or the fact that he had nearly passed out twice en route.  All that mattered was that he’d gotten there and was now sitting on a comfortable couch across from a rather lovely looking fire, doing his best not to stare at a huge painting of a woman who looked suspiciously like an older version of him in drag.

“That’s the Lady Encia Schezar.”  Gaddes offered, noticing his lovers gaze.  Realizing that his covert looks had obviously been noticed by everyone in the room, he huffed in irritation and looked openly, studying the lines of the woman’s face.  Her sad eyes caught his attention the most.  They were the same blue as Celena and Schezar, but the shape was his.  It was more than a little unnerving to be staring so intently at the face of the mother he never knew, but her beauty was captivating and it tugged at his heart to have missed having someone like this in his life.

“Do…do you think she’d have liked me?”  He found himself murmuring to Gaddes, hoping the other two in the room hadn’t heard his childish question.  Sitting next to him under the pretext of helping keep him upright, and possibly restraining him should he try to pull some stupid stunt, Gaddes gently brushed a hand along his thigh beneath the blanket and gave him a little squeeze.

“You’d have driven her batshit, just like the rest of us.”  He stated sagely.  “But she’d have loved you no matter how many times you set the gardeners shed on fire.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“So you wouldn’t set it on fire?”

“That’s an awfully all-encompassing statement.  I’d prefer to keep my options open.”

“Perhaps you should wait for Allen to get here before you decide to start burning down pieces of his estate.”  Van grumbled as he gave them both warning glares.  Dilandau snuggled down a little deeper into his blankets and glared back at the king for a long moment before turning back to the fire, admiring its beauty even though it was unjustly confined to the fireplace.

“Technically it’s my estate too.  I should be able to burn what I want.”  He mumbled to himself.  Everyone chose to ignore him in favour of watching Van, wondering how he was going to reach Hitomi.

Looking rather self-conscious and feeling the weight of their stares, Van cleared his throat loudly and sat down on the window bench, making himself comfortable before staring up at the large blue moon hanging in the sky.  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and centered himself as he clutched at the pendant hidden beneath his shirt.  Touching it seemed to help as he calmed all of his thoughts and focussed them on a single person, picturing her as he’d seen her last, clad in that strange short skirt and odd jacket, her lovely green eyes wide and full of love.  He could smell the scent of her hair surround him like fragrant wildflowers and vanilla, feel the soft brush of her fingertips over his wings and hear the soft indrawn breath before she spoke.

_“Van?”_ His heart swelled at the sound of her voice and as he opened his eyes, he could see the image of her standing in the garden by the window.  Her hair brushed her shoulders now and was long enough to pull back, though a few stray strands fell into her face.  She’d grown since the last time she’d been on Gaea and was taller than Van by three inches though she’d retained her rail thin body and long legs.  Right now she was wearing a rather nice looking blouse, jacket and pants.  The outfit reminded him almost of something an astorian man would wear, though it was lacking those ridiculously puffed up shoulders and flaring waistcoats.  Now closer to Allen’s age than his own, she was still beautiful, possibly even more so as her inner confidence and maturity added to her already brilliant personality.

“Hitomi.”  He smiled as he looked over at her, feeling the familiar bittersweet ache inside his heart.  “You look beautiful.”

“Seriously?  We’re going to have to sit here and listen to him flirt with the rose trellis?”  Dilandau grumbled from behind him.  “I crawled out of bed for this?”

“Would you shut up?  I’m trying to concentrate to save your crazy ass!”

“Language  Your Majesty, what would the peasants think?”

_“Van?  What’s going on?  Is everything alright?  You feel so angry and frustrated.”_ Her concern flowed over their link and he felt some level of relief when he realized that she hadn’t been privy to his outburst with Dilandau.  How did that maniac always manage to bring out the worst in him?

“It’s… it’s a very long story Hitomi… but we have a problem here and I need your help.”  She smiled sadly at him and actually reached out a hand as if to touch him.

_“Van, you know that I can’t do anything like that.  I can’t risk altering fate any more than I have.  Gaea needs to be left to her own fate without the interference of my people.”_ Shaking his head, Van wished more than anything that he could just touch her or feel her warmth, even for a moment.

“No, not like that.  The Madoushi, the ones who made Dilandau are trying to get him back, and they’re trying to kidnap me too.  We need to know what they want and why.”  Her smile faded to a look of deep dread and she dropped down to her knees hard enough that she’d likely have bruises later.  Fear filled her eyes and she clutched at her heart in horror.

_“Oh no!  Is Celena safe?  Is Allen there too?”_ And here is when things began to get complicated to explain.  Taking a deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder at the three men watching him, hearing only the one sided conversation.  Gaddes seemed to be taking it all in stride, Palos was staring at him with something akin to awe while Dilandau looked bored and his gaze kept wandering back to the fire.  Not that Van was fooled; he knew the albino was studying his every movement intently.

“No… not exactly.  Look, can you do a reading for us?  I know you said you didn’t want to do them anymore, but we need all the help we can get right now.  We know that some of the Madoushi are hiding out in Basram and working for a general there.  They’ve put a price on Dilandau and I to be captured alive.  The people they’ve got looking for us… they’re monsters Hitomi.  We need to stop this before more people are hurt.” 

She stared at him for a long moment, wanting to help but dreading what damage she might do with her interference.  He watched as she nervously gripped at her pants, wrinkling the strange fabric.  Finally, she sighed softly and nodded her head.  Without a word, she stood up and walked over to something and moved around objects he couldn’t see before returning to her place beside the roses and kneeling once more. 

Watching her patiently shuffle the invisible cards was so familiar that he felt himself smiling fondly, forgetting for the moment that they were worlds apart… years apart now as well.  When she finally drew her first card, she looked at it and smiled fondly, turning it around for Van to see.

“I can’t see anything in your world, only you.”  He clarified fondly, enjoying the way she blushed and ducked her head so demurely.

_“It’s the ace of serpents, your card.”_   She stated, placing it down on the ground in front of her; then drew the second and stiffened, closing her eyes as if whatever she saw pained her deeply.  _“Celena is gone isn’t she?  Dilandau is back.”_   It wasn’t a question so he simply nodded his head, somehow feeling ashamed by the answer.

“He’s not hunting you though; your cards aren’t in conflict with each other…allies?”  She pulled another card and this time he saw her pale visibly, her hand trembling as she placed it with the others.  “Disaster is coming… pain and death.  For you and those around you, it will limit your choices.”  Another card was pulled, then several more in quick succession.   Now it was his turn to clench his hands nervously as he waited for her to speak.  Whatever it was, it wasn’t good news, but that was nothing new.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Hitomi deliver a reading of happiness, and that false reading she gave Princess Millerna didn’t count.

_“There’s so much death here.  Lives lost that are about to cross your own in conflict.  The past repeating itself with the two of you at its center.”_   Her eyes grew unfocussed and Van knew that she was no longer seeing the cards themselves, she was watching a Vision unfold even as her hands continued to pull cards from the deck and lay them in front of her.  _“I see a man, so cold and cruel standing on top of a mountain of bodies.  His eyes are empty but his soul is filled with a dreadful purpose.  An army marches, vast and terrible.  They’re armed with weapons that will kill friend and foe alike, but those aren’t the danger.  I see seven golden guymelefs shining in the sunlight, they’re beautiful and vile.  Blood drips from them, pours from them and becomes a river filled with the dead.  Inside… Inside is … Dilandau?”_   She frowned in confusion and shook her head.  _“No… not him, but of him.  Wherever they step, cracks appear, tearing Gaea apart.”_   Tears began to fill her eyes, overflowing onto her cheeks as she stared at him, her heart breaking as he watched.  _“I can hear you screaming with every step they take, and a cloud of bloody feathers surrounds them.  Van… you need to get away.  Come back here!  I can keep you safe.  Please.”_

Van stared at her for several long moments, utterly aghast at what he’d just heard.  He thought that he’d prepared for the worst, but this… this was a nightmare!

“Is there a way to stop this?  Is there any way to fight them?”  His fingers dug into the window ledge so hard that he could actually feel the wood creak ominously, but he didn’t care.  There was no way they could let this come to pass. 

Again, Hitomi pulled out more cards, staring at them sadly.

_“So long as you both remain on Gaea, it will come to pass.  There’s no way to avoid the coming darkness, you’re too far along the path.   But if you are of singular purpose, you can stop it… it won’t be easy and there will be hard choices ahead for everyone involved.  You will have to trust those who you have no reason to trust, accept the embrace of an enemy, beware of the betrayal of a friend and know that help will be found in the place you least expect it.”_

“Alright… um… do you mind if I tell the others what you just said?  They will likely have some questions.”  She blinked several times, pulling herself out of the trance with a shudder, looking quite a bit paler than before.  There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately.  Weakly, she nodded her head, likely grateful for the chance to gather herself together.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the three sets of eyes which were all openly staring at him with undisguised interest.  Even Dilandau wasn’t bothering to be an ass for the moment.  It was hard to relay the information with the same sense of urgency that Hitomi had given him, but as he spoke, he saw Dilandau’s already pale face grow even lighter and his eyes glance away as if he was hiding something.  There was a feeling that not all of this was a surprise to him and Van found that more frustrating than he had words to express.

“Not you but of you?”  Gaddes finally said, needing to break the tense silence once Van finished speaking.  He looked over at Dilandau curiously.  “You’ve been around a few times, any kids we should know about?”  There was a slight edge to his voice that had nothing to do with the affronted glare of disgust he got in return.

“Firstly, I’m sixteen years old.  Any kids I had wouldn’t be old enough to cause much of a problem.  Secondly, I’ve only had sex with men, so unless Celena popped out a brat when I wasn’t looking, it’s safe to assume that no, I haven’t bred.  Why don’t you ask Allen?  He seems to like rolling around with women on a regular basis.”

Both Van and Palos nearly choked at hearing such intimate details about the Dragonslayers preferences, though Van couldn’t really say that he was overly surprised.  Palos however looked both shocked and mortified but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Dilandau fixed him with a rather vicious glare.

“And before you go on some repressed Astorian rant about proper noble behavior you can kindly remember that I’m not one of you.  I’m Zaibach, I have always been Zaibach and we don’t hold with such stupid backwards notions.  If you try to lecture me about it, I’ll-”

“Dilandau, let’s not threaten each other right now?  We need to work this out before things start getting worse.”

“Start?  You heard him, the bitch said that there’s no avoiding it.  Oh stop glaring Van, it’s not like I’m threatening to kill her or anything right now.  I’ve had a long day, I’m going to call her what I damn well want.”

“How about you stop insulting people and start telling us what you actually know then?  Our lives depend on it.”  Van shot back, glaring accusingly at the albino, daring him to argue.  It didn’t look like Dilandau was going to relent at all until Gaddes leaned over and murmured something softly into the dragonslayers ear, earning him a resigned glare.  Whatever the hold Gaddes had over the albino, Van was deeply thankful for it.

“Fine.  What that likely means is that they’re Altered Fate Soldiers, the same as me… well, mostly the same.”  He glanced back at the fire for a moment, seeming to see something in the twisting flames that the rest of them didn’t.  “I’m a prototype… the last one.”

“What happened to the others?”  Van found himself asking, not seeing Gaddes’ warning look until the words had already left his mouth.

“Dead.  The Madoushi had all of the others killed.  I was the only one to survive all of their tests.”  He shrugged slightly, still not looking at any of them.  “I was likely going to be culled after that last battle.  They’d been working on me a lot after… after my men died… They said I was growing unstable.  Unstable experiments are useless and Zaibach doesn’t tolerate useless things.”  A chill went up Van’s spine at the words but more with the toneless voice which said them.  “I don’t know how much of their research was saved when Zaibach was defeated, but if they’re recreating the experiment, they’ll likely want to dissect me to find out what worked, and what went wrong.”

“But… they want you alive…”  Palos’ voice sounded faint and trembling as he spoke, nervously watching the young captain who seemed more amused by the statement than anything.

“I never implied that I’d be dead when they cut me apart.”  Van couldn’t quite repress a shudder and he once again met Gaddes’ gaze, both men remembering the surgery scars on Dilandau’s body.  He hadn’t been acting melodramatic when he’d claimed that the sorcerers had taken him apart.  It was a sickening thought, made worse knowing that he’d played a large part in causing said imbalance.

“Ask about Eidolon.”  Gaddes said, his voice sounding strained with barely supressed anger as he reached out and put an arm over Dilandau’s shoulders, offering the slender youth what comfort he could.  Surprisingly, the albino didn’t throw him off or snarl out any threats.  He accepted the embrace and actually leaned into it slightly.

“Anything else?”

“Give her the names Zane Shroden and General Tseui.  I doubt she’ll have any information I don’t, but who knows?  She seems to be full of surprises.”  Dilandau murmured, still staring into the fire.  His fixation was starting to make Van somewhat nervous and he was beginning to wish that Palos had remembered that fire and Dilandau were a bad combination.

Turning back to Hitomi, he found that she was almost invisible, their connection having faded while he talked to the others.  Clutching the pendant in his hands once again, he focussed on her and felt a rush of relief as she grew in solidity and looked up at him, composed once again.

“We have a word or a name… Eidolon.  It seems important, do you know anything about it?”  She thought for a moment, brushing a few strands of hair back behind her ear.

_“I’ve heard that before.  It’s a word from my world… one second.”_   She pulled something out of her jacket pocket and began to poke at it intently as Van watched, wondering just what exactly she was doing.  It wasn’t long before her face brightened and she grinned in victory, holding out the object up proudly for his inspection before realizing that he couldn’t see it.  _“Eidolon is an ancient greek word.  It means “Idealized being” but can also mean “Spectral being or phantom”_

“What’s ancient greek?  And how did you learn that so quickly?”  Van was more than a little confused.  Again, Hitomi blushed prettily and smiled.

“My world speaks many languages, this is an old one from a country far away.  Dornkirk would have known it because it’s a very scholarly language and many of the words in his language have roots in it.  As for learning the word… we have special devices that let us look up information instantly from all over the world.  I just had to get the spelling close.”  The Mystic Moon really was a magical world.  Van was more than a little awed with the casual way Hitomi had just admitted to having near godlike knowledge at her fingertips.

“What about the names Zane Shroden and General Tseui?  Do you get anything from that.?”  Hitomi shook her head sadly, closing her eyes for several long seconds.

_“I can’t handle another Vision Van, not so soon after the last one.  I’m sorry but it’s too much.”_   It was hard to bite back his anger at that.  What did it matter if it was hard on her?  People were going to die; Gaea could very well be destroyed!  That merited a little discomfort didn’t it?  It was a familiar frustration he’d always had with her and rather than attack her with words, he simply took several deep calming breaths _.  “I’ll contact you when I can, but I’ll do some readings in the meantime and see if I can come up with any possible solutions.”_   It wasn’t much and she likely knew it, but it was all she was willing to offer at this moment.

Despite his anger, he did have to admit that she was looking far more drained than she had at the beginning of the conversation.  Her eyes had darkened half circles beneath them and her skin looked sallow and drawn.  Perhaps it was harder to have Visions on the Mystic Moon than on Gaea?

Somehow, Van dredged up a smile for her and nodded his head.  She’d given them far more information than they’d had previously and for that he was deeply grateful.

“Thanks Hitomi.  I’m sorry to bother you with this but you’ve been a huge help.  Contact me soon?”

_“I will, I promise.  And Van, please be careful.  Take care of yourself and the others.  Give them my love?”_

“Always.”  He wanted to tell her that he still loved her, that there was still a place for her here and in his heart.  He’d even opened his mouth to say the words, but the glint of gold on her finger reminded him that there was more than mere distance between them now.  With a heartfelt sigh, he broke the connection with her and turned to face the others as they discussed the dark destiny unfolding around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wasn't going to have Celena appear at all, but after a conversation with the wonderfully brilliant Darkstars/Ivorybyrd, I realized that she could be a rather interesting layer to the mess that is Dilandau's mind. Also, it's about damn time that Gaddes stood up to Dilandau. The brat needs it, especially with how reckless he's getting. 
> 
> Next Episode: Fate has a funny way of kicking Gaddes in the teeth.


	21. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squabbles, squid and finding things left behind. It's a big day at the Schezar manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! these chapters have been taking a while to write mostly because I love writing action scenes, and these last few have been more exposition than fighting. That and I can't wait to get to a certain part and am trying really hard not to jump ahead to get to it. Granted, I love Van and Dilandau's bickering with each other. They're so snarky.
> 
> Again, I still don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any characters from it. I'm not making monies... I'm currently drinking lots of vino to celebrate surviving 2016!

                “Yeah, doom and destruction.”  Gaddes sighed softly as he sunk down into the embrace of the couch feeling more than a little despondent over what Van had just related to them.  “Why can’t she ever warn us about a surprise puppy invasion or something?  I could handle puppies.”  Next to him, Dilandau pulled his gaze away from the flames long enough to give him a look of utter confusion.

“Are you sure you weren’t hit on the head in that fight?”  The youth asked softly, earning himself a sharp poke in the side from the man in question.  Flashing him an amused grin, Dilandau then glanced over at the window, half expecting to see the girl herself standing there just behind Van.  “Well, I have to say that she and Emperor Dornkirk certainly have rather different fortune telling styles.”  He huffed, mentally noting that neither were overly helpful in the long run.  “Sure we know a little, but I just have even more questions now.  I hate having questions.” 

“Thinking just gets in the way of the slaughter?”  Van couldn’t quite resist getting a dig in and was more than a little deflated when the silver haired youth simply nodded his head in agreement.

“It does actually.  Tell me where to go and if I’ve got an actual target and I’m happy as can be.’  Dilandau murmured, looking over his shoulder at the king and obviously taking some measure of amusement out of not raising to the bait.  “Crap like this leaves too much to chance.  When that happens, opportunities slip through your fingers because you’re too busy wondering about this whole “trust someone you have no reason to trust” crap.”

“Maybe she means that you two have to trust each other?”  Gaddes ventured, hoping the answer was something that simple.  Dilandau shook his head in disagreement.

“No, why would she say that when she already said that we weren’t in conflict with each other?  Unless Van here relayed the information incorrectly or your great seer really isn’t all that impressive.”

“I repeated what she said word for word.”  Van growled, not sure if he was more upset at the implied insult towards himself or Hitomi.  “You’re right though, she wouldn’t say something that redundant.  So that means that somewhere out there is someone we hate and we’re going to have to put our lives in their hands.”

“See?  That’s what I’m talking about.”  Dilandau seemed to brighten slightly at the promise of being able to complain about someone he loathed.  “It’s stupid to say something like that.  If we followed that, we’d be handing our lives over to every enemy we had.  Though… I’ve killed most of the people I had issues with, so it must be one of your enemies Van.  Did you leave any alive on the battlefield, Killer?”  The king winced at the nickname but didn’t have the heart to argue it with this individual in particular.

“Unlike you, I don’t go around making enemies.”  He replied tartly, glaring at the albino coldly.

“Er… she didn’t say enemy specifically though did she?”  Palos spoke up somewhat hesitantly, hoping to not draw the ire of either teenager.  “And if Van repeated her words exactly, she’d said trust _those_ not trust _someone_.  So there’s a group of people we have to trust.”  He couldn’t help but cringe slightly as hard crimson eyes focussed on him, making him feel as if his skin was being pulled back to reveal each and every secret he had.  Nervously, he let his hand slip into his pocket, clutching the cold purple stone tightly.

“That’s an impressive memory you have there Palos.”  The demon’s voice was low, silken and filled with barely veiled malice.  It made the astorian want to run for his life, but he drew strength from the cold jewel, knowing that he was safe from the monsters flames.

“I’m a Royal Messenger.”  He replied, forcing himself to meet that horrible gaze without flinching.  “My memorization skills are superb.”  Yes, there was more than just a touch of pride to his voice, but it was a skill he’d worked hard to develop and he wasn’t going to let some monster belittle it in front of him.

Choosing to ignore the one sided stare down, Gaddes nodded his head at the words and smiled thankfully at Palos.

“He’s right.  Van said it was a plural form, so there’s a group of people waiting to join our cause, that’s good news.  Even if we have no clue as to who they are.  Really, at this point it could be anyone.”

“Well I’m glad we cleared that up.”  Dilandau rolled his eyes, slumping back down on the couch.  “I have no reason to trust the entire Gaean population.  Is that plural enough for you?  Ugh, while where at it, why don’t you just add in a few obscure _find the dragons_ for old time’s sake.”

“You found him, good work.  Now stop baiting people.”  Gaddes grumbled through his teeth and doing his best to ignore the knowing smirk the albino was shooting him.  Damn brat was doing it on purpose!  “It’s the rest that really concerns me.”  The crewman continued.  “Another army and seven golden guymelefs piloted by people just like you.  No offense but one is more than enough.”  

“Some would even say too much.”  Van noted under his breath, earning a warning look from Gaddes.  “Really though, I don’t see what we can really do to avoid all of this.  Dilandau was right about one thing.”

“Only one?”

“One thing.”  Van continued, ignoring the albino’s interruption.  “All we’re really doing is overanalysing what Hitomi told us.  It’s all still too broad for us to make any informed decisions.  I’ve found that with Hitomi’s visions, its best to understand them as they unfold.”

“That… that’s the first time you’ve ever sounded halfway intelligent.  I might almost forget that you’re a barbarian.”  Dilandau grinned at Van, his eyes bright and teasing.  The zaibach captain was in a surprisingly good mood considering the situation.  Likely it was the prospect of fighting so many altered soldiers in the near future.

“You’re only saying that because I’m actually agreeing with you.”

“The first time you’ve sounded halfway intelligent.”  He repeated in his most patronising tone of voice, earning himself another elbow in the ribs from Gaddes.

“Stop teasing the king.”  He ordered gently, feeling as if he was the only adult in the room.  It’s not like Palos was daring enough to speak up against either teen.  “But really, there’s a better way to avoid all of this.  We hide.”  Two pairs of eyes, one brown and one crimson looked at him in confusion, not quite understanding what he was getting at.  Taking a deep breath, Gaddes attempted to translate into concepts the two might understand.  “These guys need you two to build their super soldier types right?  So we hide you.  Van could always hide out on the Mystic Moon with Hitomi and I could take Dilandau to another country, maybe even Asgard or something.  If they can’t find you, none of this happens.”

Van’s faint smile faded and he looked down at the floor, suddenly appearing to be utterly dejected and morose.

“I can’t go to the Mystic Moon…”

“What do you mean hide?  Why would I want to do that?”    Clearly Gaddes should have just stayed quiet.  What was worse was that neither teen was intentionally being difficult.  Van looked almost gutted and Dilandau simply looked at him with utter confusion written across his lovely face.

“Running and hiding is what sane people do when entire armies are after them.”  He grumbled at his lover, fully aware that his likely was just going to go right over his head like any other sensible idea.

“That’s stupid.  How can I fight them if I’m running and hiding?”  You know what?  He wasn’t going to even try to elaborate.  It was obviously a lost cause.  Instead, he looked at Van and frowned in concern.

“You alright Van?”  Of course he wasn’t.  Anyone with eyes could see that, of course, he was likely the only person in the room who honestly cared.  “Soooo the Mystic Moon isn’t an option?”  Gaddes hedged, hoping that contrary to personality, Dilandau didn’t try to get a few digs in on the king while he was so obviously down.

“It’s a strange world.”  Van murmured softly, looking out the window and up at the giant blue planet hovering overhead.  “Filled with strange people and stranger customs.  I was only there for a few minutes and wasn’t really paying much attention to where I was, but I didn’t like the place.  Everything felt… wrong.  Even the air tasted strange.”

“Have you tried not breathing?”  Dilandau offered helpfully.  It figured that the brat would be starting to get his energy back just in time to kick Van while he was down.  In fact, it went rather far to show just how upset the king was when he didn’t even respond to the jibe.  Noticing that he was being ignored, the dragonslayer frowned.  It wasn’t something he was used to experiencing.

“Besides, Hitomi has her own life… her own family now.  I can’t go busting in and ruining that by dragging her back into another war.”

“Oh no, by all means, bring her here!”  Dilandau grinned, leaning forward eagerly, that familiar flicker of bloodlust entering his eyes.  “We never did get a chance to be properly introduced.”

“So help me if you’re playing with that knife right now, I’m going to take it away from you.”  Gaddes grumbled softly so that only the albino could hear.  In response, he was flashed a wide and not so innocent grin as the brat challenged him to try to take it away.

“But, she was pivotal in the war wasn’t she?”  Palos asked, looking from one face to the next, receiving three nods, one of which was accompanied by a disdainful sneer.  “So why don’t you ask her to come back?  If our entire world is in danger again, she couldn’t just abandon us could she?”

“It’s not that simple.”  Van murmured, looking over at the messenger before drawing in a deep breath and visibly pulling himself together.  “We can’t go running to her whenever we have a problem.  We can’t risk creating another Emperor Dornkirk.  I don’t care about all the wonderful things he did for Zaibach Dilandau, he was a misguided monster.  This time, the citizens of Gaea need to rise and fall on their own without outside interference.”

“Pretty words, but didn’t you just ask an outsider for information?  Or is it not interference when it’s the good guys doing it?  This whole hero thing is rather new to me.”  Gaddes considered elbowing Dilandau again then decided that it really didn’t seem as if it was accomplishing anything.  Besides, for all the baiting the two enemies were doing, they were still somewhat civil towards each other.  Maybe this was the middle ground they were all going to have to be happy with in order to retain their sanity.

“Only an idiot doesn’t use the tools they have available.  That still doesn’t mean I’m going to go running to her side, or drag her back here.  As for you being a hero, don’t worry.  We’re using you as much as you’re using us.  This is a partnership of necessity and I’m sure you’ll turn on us the instant you believe it’s in your best interest.”

“Just remember, I’m the guy who slogged through a dragon infested jungle to fight a troop of mercenaries to free your scrawny ass, Your Majesty.  All you did was carry me along a nicely manicured trail to an ally’s home where we could sit in front of the fire, sip vino and insult each other.  Personally, I think I’m ahead in the hero challenge.”

“It’s a challenge now is it?”

“This is us, when isn’t it?”  At this point Gaddes tuned them out and glanced over at Palos who was staring at the exchange with open shock and horror.  The poor man’s mind seemed unable to comprehend anyone speaking to royalty in such an insulting fashion, even if Van was the most down to earth king you could ever hope to meet.

“They… they never stop fighting do they?”  The brunette looked over at the crewman, his eyes wide as he winced at another vicious barb the albino threw at the monarch. 

“This?”  Gaddes glanced at the two teens fondly and resisted the urge to stroke Dilandau’s silvery locks affectionately.  “This is polite for them.  Usually they say hello with flamethrowers and swords.”  Judging by how the messenger swallowed nervously, he realized that this wasn’t an exaggeration.   Still, no one was bleeding or screaming yet, so maybe the two youths were actually getting used to each other?  Jeture be praised if they were.

Thankfully, before that theory could be tested too extensively, Alberto finally made his appearance in the parlour, inviting them all to wash themselves before dinner.  The idea of a gloriously decadent bath, perhaps with a delectable albino in his arms was quickly quenched when the manservant made it clear that he would be accompanying them to the bathing facilities.  Even as he opened his mouth to protest, Gaddes noted the man’s narrowed eyes and stern visage and remembered his statement about Dilandau still technically being a ward of Allen’s.  Also, there was that whole noble born being debauched by a commoner thing that likely had the old man’s cravat in a bunch.  While the master of the house was away, the servant was going to do everything in his power to protect Dilandau’s virtue.

It said a lot for the kid’s exhaustion that he didn’t seem to notice the old man’s interference and instead gratefully headed to the bathing room without complaint, eager to finally feel clean.  While he bathed, Gaddes helped to lay out some clean clothes for him while his torn and bloodstained outfit was sent to the washerwoman to clean and mend.  His own clothes also followed suit and they both were going to be forced to wear something from Allen’s wardrobe.  The resulting bitching about puffed shoulders was as verbose as expected though perhaps a tad more vulgarity filled.  Still, it was worth it to see Alberto’s eyes nearly bug out at hearing such vile language pour forth from noble lips.

Dinner was a simple affair for astorian aristocracy.  There were only five courses, for which Alberto apologized profusely, promising to more than make up for it tomorrow.  Dilandau spent a great deal of time staring at the food on his plate and poking at it suspiciously with his fork.  He’d had Astorian cuisine before on previous visits to the country and it had never been to his taste.  Growing up in Zaibach, he’d long been accustomed to simple but nutritious food consumed in very utilitarian settings.  Even on board the Vione, he and his slayers had enjoyed simple meat and vegetable dishes, designed to help them maintain peak physical condition.  When out on missions, they had sustained themselves on specially produced ration packs which were tasteless but highly nutritious.  This… it was far too rich and the subtleties of flavour were all but lost to him.

As the only Schezar in residence, he sat at the head of the table with Van on one side and Gaddes on the other.  Palos sat on Gaddes’ other side and seemed to be taking his cues for eating from the dragonslayer, meaning that he wasn’t able to eat much and was beginning to look as if he was resenting it.  The other two dug in eagerly, either used to the food or being simply hungry enough to eat anything… not that Dilandau would expect better from a barbarian.

“Gaddes, what the hell is this?”  He finally asked, growing tired of poking at the strange coils on his plate, trying to identify them visually before sticking it in his mouth.  One would think that growing up as he had that he’d be loath to hesitate in eating anything, expecting a beating or worse should he refuse a meal, but Dilandau had always been a picky eater when food was abundantly available.

“Calamari.”  The crewman replied, nibbling on the end of a tentacle.  “It’s a delicacy.”  The albino poked it again suspiciously, unamused by its strange texture.

“What did it use to be?”

“A squid.  Zaibach has a coast, don’t you guys eat seafood?”  Everyone had paused in their eating to listen to the conversation and Dilandau was rather sure that Van was biting back a smirk over the dragonslayer’s ignorance.

“We have a coast but it’s mostly ice.  Our seafood is mostly fish, some shellfish and seals.  I’ve had seal meat several times and on a few northern exercises I tried fish.”  He poked the tentacle again and was positive that he saw it twitch.  Guimel would love this thing.  He’d likely stuff his face with it, leaving several tentacles dangling out of his mouth and then loudly claim to be Yargshul, an aquatic demon beast from Daedalus legend.  Dilandau would then either glare at him or hit him in the back of the head, ordering him to act like a proper officer. 

Unsettled by both the thoughts and the unappetizing dish, he pushed it away and instead picked up his glass of vino.  At least that was palatable.

“Celena loved calamari.”  Gaddes murmured and Dilandau glared at him over the rim of his cup.

“Another point against it.  After seeing her room, it’s obvious that the girl had no taste.”

“Just shut up and eat.  You’ll get sick again if you don’t.”  The crewman grumbled between mouthfuls.  Thankfully, Alberto interceded like the glorious gift from the gods that he was and offered the Zaibach captain a dish better suited to his tastes.  He slipped away for a few minutes and returned with a platter of cold meats, cheese and lightly cooked vegetables.  This time, the teenager had no complaints and Gaddes felt his gratitude towards the servant grow almost enough to forgive him for coming between the two lovers.  By the time they’d finished eating, Dilandau actually sat up straighter and seemed healthier than he had since waking up.

After dinner, they were welcomed to retire to the parlour once again to relax and unwind.  Van and Palos took advantage of the offer but neither of them had the misfortune of being in battle and poisoned that day.  Both Dilandau and Gaddes were more than ready to head to their bed; at least that was until Alberto escorted them to separate rooms.  It didn’t escape the crewman’s notice that his “guest room” was several rooms away from the teens who would still be sleeping in Celena’s room.

“What do you mean he’s going to be down the hall?”  Dilandau growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously.  Despite the obvious danger to his life, the manservant simply watched his young master patiently.

“Propriety dictates that you sleep in separate quarters.”

“Propriety my ass.  We share a room on the Crusade.  What’s so different from that?”  The albino all but spat, ready to step forward and break a few bones to get across the point that he was going to do whatever the hell he damn well wanted.

“The difference is that Master Schezar is not aware of your relationship.  I am, and I will uphold the duties of my position to ensure that you behave in a proper manner befitting a young nobleman.”  Those were not the words the teen wanted to hear and he stepped forward until he was nose to nose with the old man, practically breathing fire in his fury.

“I sleep where and with who I damn well want.  I’m not some Astorian prat whose virtue needs to be protected.  I’m a Zaibach officer and I am well within my rights.”

“You may be, but you are also, by the laws of the land the legal ward of Master Schezar and while residing in the family home, partaking of his protection and hospitality, you will abide by the rules of Astorian etiquette.”

“Fuck your pathetic nation and fuck your etiquette!”  Dilandau snarled, clearly at his diplomatic best.  “I’ll camp out in the woods then.  I’m not a damn child and I refuse to be treated like one!”  He grabbed onto Gaddes’ hand and began walking back towards the stairs, following the route they’d taken to get to the parlour. 

“Young Master.”  Alberto called after them.  “You’re not well and the weather will not help your recovery.  These actions are foolish-”  Anything else he might have said was cut off by a vase exploding against the wall by his head.  A few shards of porcelain drew red lines across the manservant’s cheek and fine dust spattered his uniform.   Dilandau hadn’t been aiming to hit the man, that was a small consolation at least, though judging by the look in his eye, that was the only warning Alberto was going to get.

“I didn’t ask to come here.”  The Dragonslayer said in a low and dangerous voice.  “I never asked for his hospitality or protection.  Your laws mean nothing to me and your priggish attitudes mean even less.  Don’t speak to me again or the next thing thrown will be my knife, and I assure you, I won’t miss.”  With that said, Dilandau spun around on his heel and walked away, fully expecting Gaddes to follow.

The crewman gave the manservant an apologetic look and sighed softly.

“I did warn you that he wouldn’t take it well.”  He glanced over at the retreating form, noting how exhaustion stole away some of the youth’s deadly grace.  “We won’t go far and I’ll keep him out of trouble.  I know you’re only looking out for him.”  As far as diplomatic patch jobs went, this one wasn’t all that impressive, but it was the best he could do on such short notice.  If Alberto had heard him at all, he gave no sign; instead, he still looked utterly shocked by the explosive violence that had just been aimed at him.  It was likely the most traumatic event in the old man’s life.

Unwilling to waste further time, Gaddes turned and raced after Dilandau, catching up to him at the bottom of the stairs, just in time for Van and Palos to come running out of the parlour.  Both men had their sword drawn and looked ready to defend themselves though Gaddes noticed that the Fanelian king didn’t look at all surprised to see Dilandau stalking towards him in a snit.  Rather than try to stop the albino or ask him what happened, the king simply stepped out of his way, letting him pass without comment.  Brown eyes sought out Gaddes, narrowing slightly in question.

“Er… The kid decided that he wants to sleep outside.”  The crewman said, giving them both a lame grin which neither looked like they believed.   “Everything is ok, no one’s hurt.”  He added quickly, noting the concern on Van’s face.

“He’s going to make himself sick if he sleeps outside.”  Van stated in a rather flat voice, not looking amused at all by the captain’s tantrum.  “Also, the more he wanders around, the more likely he is to be seen and recognized.”  As if Gaddes didn’t realize that!  Of course, beating that logic into the Zaibach brat’s pretty skull was easier said than done.

“You’re welcome to try explaining that to him.”  He replied, sounding just as tired as he actually felt.  Really, he was getting far too old for dramatics like this.  Realizing that the brat in question had already slipped out through the parlour door and was likely heading across the grounds, Gaddes swore loudly and chased after him. 

“Exhausted my perky ass.”  He grumbled, forcing his loudly protesting legs to pick up the speed.  “That kids gonna be the death of me.”  Dammit, you’d think he’d be easy to spot, the brat practically glowed in the dark, but as he looked around, he saw nothing but empty lawn, carefully cultivated gardens and the black wall of the woods.

“It is rather perky you know.”  The brat’s voice spoke up from behind him, making Gaddes spin around, an accusing glare already firmly fixed on his face.  Rather than looking at all contrite about the scene he’d just caused, the albino was instead leaning against the side of the manor, arms crossed lazily over his chest, a bottle of vino dangling from the fingers of one hand.  He was also rather obviously checking out the older man, making Gaddes blush hotly and quickly glance around to make sure that the king and messenger hadn’t come into hearing range.

“You can’t seriously be thinking about sex can you?  You could barely even stand two hours ago.”

Dilandau shrugged nonchalantly and stepped away from the wall, walking towards the darkened forest with confident steps.  Gaddes had no real choice but to follow along, knowing that if left to his own devices, things would go from bad to worse in legendary time.

“That was two hours ago.  I’ve had plenty of time to rest.”  The youth replied glancing over his shoulder to flash the older man a teasing smile.  “I told you that I don’t need much sleep or downtime for that matter.  They made me so that I was always ready for battle no matter the hour or my current physical state.  Right now, we’re deep in enemy territory as far as I’m concerned.  I’ll be lucky to get an hour of actual sleep over the next few days.”

“You need to stop doing that.”  Gaddes grumbled irritably, earning a somewhat confused look from the albino.  “Referring to yourself like something that was built… like a machine.  You’re not.  You’re just as human as I am.”  Dilandau’s smile faded at his words and the boy looked up at the sky for a long moment.  Unlike everyone else, he avoided staring at the Mystic Moon and instead watched the stars, drinking in their silent and cold beauty.

“Maybe sometimes I don’t want to be.”  He murmured softly, almost to himself.  Gaddes barely heard him despite the silence around them.  There was something in the boy’s voice that twisted his stomach into a ball of nerves, making him wonder if he was once again going to be preventing his lover from trying to end his life.

“I’m remembering Gaddes.”  Crimson eyes glanced over in his direction before focussing back on the celestial display.  “Bit by bit… the holes in my mind are closing.  I think it’s from whatever happened during the battle.  I… It felt like there was this huge wall inside my mind, and I could feel cracks forming.”  Reaching up a pale hand, he rubbed his temples lightly and gave a soft unsteady laugh.  “I don’t know if what I’m seeing was real… I hope it wasn’t… but… I think it was.”  A pink tongue traced a path across his lips nervously and he popped the cork on the bottle of wine, taking a long sip of it before holding it out to Gaddes.

“I never really thought about what was missing in my head before… never really wanted to.  Anytime I tried, I’d hear the screams.  At first, they belonged to voices I didn’t recognize even though they felt familiar.  After…after my men… died…their screams joined the others.  Now though… now I hear my own along with them.”   

Dilandau ran his fingers through his hair nervously as Gaddes took the proffered bottle and indulged in a small sip before handing it back.  More wine found its way down the dragonslayers throat but it didn’t seem to offer him any relief.

“The things they did to me Gaddes… the things I let them do…”  He shook his head, a look of black rage twisting his features for the barest of an instant before it faded.  Just long enough to remind Gaddes of how dangerous and unstable this kid was and send his adrenaline levels skyrocketing.

“It wasn’t your fault Dilandau.  None of it was.”  Another generous sip of wine passed the boys lips as the albino chuckled in amusement at that statement.  Still feeling more than a little off balance in the conversation, Gaddes reached out a hand to gently touch his lover, hoping to perhaps ground him and offer some small measure of comfort.

“Fault?”  Dilandau looked honestly confused and blinked at the crewman with wide almost innocent looking eyes.  “Oh I wasn’t claiming any fault in this mess.”  He shrugged elegantly and took another sip of wine before dissolving into soft giggles.  Perhaps indulging in a bottle of vino after the stress of the day wasn’t the best of decisions.  For all intents and purposes, Gaddes was pretty sure the captain was drunk.  “I’m just angry over having to redo the tally of how much I’m going to make them all suffer as I kill each and every one of them.”  Those last few words were punctuated by the albino tapping the crewman on the tip of his nose before leaning in for a playful kiss.

Gaddes couldn’t help but moan at the vino flavoured lips, especially when that incredibly skilled tongue slipped between his lips, exploring his mouth in a rather proprietary fashion.  His previous concerns seemed to melt away as that delicious body pressed against his own and though he knew that this was totally a distraction technique, he couldn’t find it within himself to object.

“We should find somewhere nice and private.”  The dragonslayer murmured with a smile on his lips and desire shining in his eyes.  Gaddes wanted to decline, neither of them were in any shape for such strenuous activities and he knew that whatever was going through the kids head right now, it wasn’t healthy.  Still, he couldn’t quite bring his mouth to form the words, especially when slender fingers reached up and began unfastening the buttons of Dilandau’s shirt.  Beautiful pale flesh was revealed, inch by delectable inch to glow in the moonlight, the dark bruise of the love bite on his neck standing out starkly in contrast.

With a challenging smile, Dilandau took Gaddes’ hands in his own and began to lead him towards the forest and its promised privacy.  Inwardly, Gaddes mused that they still had a high probability of being attacked considering their current trend, but rather than give voice to his concerns, he decided that this simply meant that had to keep a close eye on Dilandau tonight.  A very close eye. 

“I know the perfect place, come on!”  The albino grinned, leading his lover deeper into the woods, releasing one of his hands so he could take another long sip of wine.  For a moment, Gaddes almost asked when exactly the young captain had had a chance to learn about any of the local geography, but there simply wasn’t enough blood left pumping through his brain to hold onto that thought for more than a moment.  It had all flown in a more southerly direction in his body, making walking more than a little difficult.

“You do remember that neither of us is in great shape right now.” He did manage to mention, only to have Dilandau chuckle in amusement and shove the bottle into his free hand.

“Worried old man?”  He took a moment to trail his fingertips down the length of Gaddes’ chest, enjoying the feel of hard muscle beneath rough silk.  While he loathed the cut of astorian clothing, the zaibach captain had to admit that they were wonderful in a tactile sense.  The clothing encouraged touch and he was never one to ignore indulgence.  Slowly, his hand strayed lower, stroking along the waistline of Gaddes’ trousers while the pink tip of his tongue glided across pale lips, the motion full of anticipation.  “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”  Urging the older man forward once more, he led them deeper into the woods, leaving the carefully manicured grounds behind them.

It wasn’t long before Gaddes grew tired of stumbling through the greenery, his night sight nowhere near as strong as that of his pale companion.   By now, they were both well on their way towards being drunk, so much so that Gaddes nearly stumbled into a rather picturesque pond when they’d come across it.  He did however get his boots rather soaking wet and could feel the water seeping in.  The desire to sit down and remove the offending footwear was strong but Dilandau insisted that the place he was looking for was just up a little bit further.  If it hadn’t been for the look of determination and desire on the youths face, Gaddes might have pushed the issue, but one glance at his lover dissolved any resolve he might have.  Damn if the kid didn’t have him wrapped around his little finger.  Worse, he knew it.

Begrudgingly, the older man followed him, exhaustion dragging at his steps despite his earlier burst of energy.  How far were they going anyway?    Opening his mouth to ask that very question, his attention was stolen by his foot kicking at something in the underbrush, something heavy and metallic.

Cursing loudly and hopping on one foot, he crouched down to see what exactly had nearly broken his toes and froze in utter shock as he saw metal shoulder guards, belonging to elite Zaibach armour… painted brilliant crimson.  The colour had faded somewhat from the exposure to the elements and lack of care, dirt filled the grooves in the metal and something had chewed its way through the leather straps which had once attached them to the rest of the uniform. 

“Found it!”  Dilandau crowed happily in triumph from up ahead.  “Stop dawdling old man, I thought you wanted to get laid.”  There was a high titter of laughter which faded quickly when he didn’t answer.  “Fanelian?”  The boy sounded wary now, any trace of his previous drunken giddiness evaporating instantly.

Numbed by his discovery, Gaddes stepped forward into the small clearing and held out the shoulder guard.  His first thought had been that the dragonslayer had led him here specifically for this, but the look of blank confusion on Dilandau’s face as he looked at the object in question, followed by the stunned recognition proved his ignorance.

“Is that my…”  He reached out his hand, taking it from Gaddes with a touch of absolute reverence, his eyes never leaving the armour.  “I… How?”  Crimson eyes darted around as he looked around the forest, no doubt wondering if more of his past might come jumping out at them.

“How did you know this place Dilandau?”  Gaddes couldn’t help but ask, concern filling his voice.  “Why did you bring me here?”  After a few weeks with the teenager, he knew by now that the coincidences seemed to pile up around him, too many to be blindly accepted anymore.  Still, he did his best to keep any accusing tone out of his voice.  If the kid honestly didn’t know, then upsetting him wasn’t going to accomplish anything except cause another violent eruption.

“I… I saw it in a dream…”  Dilandau murmured softly, turning the shoulder guard around in his hands, examining it critically and frowning as he took note of its damaged state.  “This has been out here for months…”  His voice trailed off as he looked around with widening eyes, understanding finally shining in their depths.  “This is where I appeared… Where I went after the battle at Rampant.”  Tearing his gaze away from the armour, he looked up at Gaddes, his eyes burning with feverish intensity, all previous thoughts vanishing in an instant.  “Did you see anything else?  The rest of my armour?  My daidem?  My Oreades?”

“Just this.”  Gaddes replied, somewhat taken aback by the strange gleam in the boy’s eyes.  “I kicked it… there wasn’t anything else.”  He expected the albino to scream in frustration, perhaps throw the bottle in his hands or even go so far as to punch Gaddes for daring to deliver anything less than good news.  After all, it had been almost eight  moons since that attack when Zaibach had surprised the gathering allied forces and obliterated them at Rampant Port.  It had been one of the darkest days in the history of Gaea and the boy standing in front of him had been pivotal.  He alone had been responsible for countless deaths amongst the allies when he’d broken their defensive lines and his flames had certainly helped reduce the one great port to ashes and twisted metal.

There was no way to track down what had happened to the rest of his uniform or equipment.  After so long, anything that could have been dragged off likely had been by the animals in the area.  As for the Guymelef, who knew where it might be.

Rather than indulge in another display of violent rage, Dilandau instead closed his eyes and held the armour tightly to his chest, the way a small child might hold a favourite toy.  He seemed to relax, the tension leaving his body as even the boys breathing became slow and even.  Gaddes had seen Hitomi do this often enough when she was using her pendant and it caused a shiver to travel up his spine.  Was this how he’d tracked Van all over Gaea?  Dowsing the same way Hitomi had done?  Was he using his armour as an anchor, the same way she’d used that scrap of cloth to locate the hidden Vione?

“Kid…”  Gaddes licked his lips nervously, not wanting to interrupt whatever the dragonslayer was doing, but also desperate to stop whatever strange abilities he was tapping into.  This simply wasn’t normal and he didn’t like it.  It was one thing for Hitomi to pull a stunt like this.  She was from the Mystic Moon after all; she was supposed to be weird.  Dilandau wasn’t.  He was just a seriously messed up kid… who could switch genders and identities if under enough stress… and occasionally teleport in pillars of light.  “Kid, whatever you’re doing, you don’t have to.  Let’s just rest.  Leave the past where it belongs.”  He might as well have been speaking to the trees considering how well the silver haired boy listened.

“I found it!”  Dilandau’s eyes opened up, that eerie energist glow lighting them up from the inside as he spun around and raced through the small clearing, buoyed by a sudden rush of energy.  All Gaddes could do was groan softly and follow him, wondering why in Jeture’s name his life had to keep getting stranger and stranger.

“Don’t be the guymelef.  Don’t be the guymelef.”  He chanted softly under his breath, hoping against hope that the brat was just looking for his precious crown.  Up ahead, Dilandau was scrabbling at a pile of leaves and down branches.  Even in the darkness, Gaddes could make out the metallic crimson shell of the brats favourite death machine being unveiled.  It was every bit as horrible as he remembered, massive, imposing and possessing more ways to level a small country than any other single Guymelef he’d ever seen.  Whoever had assigned this monstrosity to such an emotionally unstable and violent child deserved to be dragged through the streets of every major city for their stupidity.  Worse, he wasn’t much better considering he was just standing there, watching the unveiling without doing a single thing to stop Dilandau.

“Look Gaddes!”  The youth cried in ecstatic delight, actually using Gaddes’ name rather than the teasing nicknames he usually came up with.  The intimacy of the name tugged at the older man’s heart and he could feel his resolve and horror starting to slip.  This machine meant the world to the young captain and he knew it.  There was no way he was ever forgetting that fateful confession the teenager had made about wanting to have the best equipment to protect those he cared about… the crew of the crusade. 

Dilandau glanced over his shoulder at his lover, his face practically glowing with childish delight.

“Aside from a little dirt, it’s practically fresh off the factory floor.  None of those morons at Rampant so much as scratched me, and neither Van nor Schezar even landed a blow.  No damage, locked up tight…”  His grin grew wider as he scrambled up the leg to the cockpit and tapped in a rather complex code on the small hidden hatch.  With a soft hiss, the door opened and before Gaddes could so much as raise a hand and call for caution, the teenager had slipped inside and sealed it shut.

“Kid!  Kid this is a really bad idea!”  He didn’t even want to imagine what sort of panic would be caused by the Oreades suddenly popping up in Palas.  Any idiot with a guymelef would be gunning for the brat.  Worse, none of them could come close to touching him except Scherezade and Escaflowne.  Not that they wouldn’t try, and in return, the entire area would be levelled.

Rather than hearing a reply, he was greeted by the loud hiss and hum of guymelef engines coming back online.  The ominous glow of the drag-energist in the shoulders made him back away warily, his eyes straying towards the large “hands” of the unit, all too aware of the death that could come spewing out of them at any moment. 

The Alseides they had in the Crusade didn’t unnerve him nearly as much as this machine did, which was odd considering how often they’d fought Dilandau in his older model guymelef.  There was just something… unsettling about this machine.  It was the most advanced unit on the planet, made especially for Zaibach’s prized psychopath, complete with extra energist, to give him just a little more power when razing countries to the ground. 

Even as he watched, one of the giant arms rose up and several lances of crima shot out from the ports on the tips.  Gaddes’ stomach plummeted as they twisted together instantly, fusing into a long and wickedly sharp sword.  He’d seen that weapon cut through other guymelf with ease, ending life after life as the child in its heart cackled in delight.  Dammit!  All he’d wanted to do was help Dilandau, keep an eye on him and maybe, just maybe get laid.  Now here he was, doing his best not to run away screaming in panic as the massive beast rose to its full height, towering over the tiny man at its feet.

“Dammit Dilandau!”  He finally yelled.  “Talk to me!”  Tell me that you’re alright in there; promise me that you’re still you!  He wanted to yell as well, but bit his tongue.  He had to have faith in his lover.  He had to believe in him.  Hadn’t Allen told him that?  If they didn’t believe that he was more than a monster, then why should he be anything but?

“Gaddes, you should see this!  It’s perfect!  It was sealed up tightly so nothing got in.  Even the energist was shut off properly so I’m still at full power!  All I need to do is shake the dust off a little!  Can you believe this!?”  Dilandau’s voice sounded eerie over the mechanical speakers, but his utter delight could be heard easily.  “Crima levels are still almost full too!”  Great, it was lovely to know that he hadn’t slaughtered his way to an empty tank during the massacre at Rampant.

The huge guymelef made a few thrusts with the sword, easily slicing through several trees, moving nimbly and confidently, somehow avoiding crushing Gaddes beneath its massive feet.  Of course, unsurprisingly, he heard the hideously familiar whine of the flight engines coming online and raced backwards as the Oreades leaped into the air.  The legs closed and locked into position as the huge cape billowed around it in the sudden breeze.  It was impressive as all hell as it hovered there, leaves swirling around it in a mad cyclone before the unit settled back down to the ground and knelt with almost regal grace. 

When its cockpit opened up, Dilandau bounded out, as heedless to his own safety as an overly excited child.  He nearly tackled Gaddes to the ground, grinning wide enough to nearly split his face in two.

“Did you see it!?”  The boy asked, utterly ignoring the impossibility of somehow not noticing the nightmarish machine.  “It’s so much better than that old Alseides!  I’ll of course want to do a diagnostic of it as soon as I can, but everything feels so perfect!  I missed it so much!”  Twisting away, the boy ran back to the machine and places his hands against the huge legs, looking up with utter awe on his face.

“With this, I can fight Basram.  I can stop them and their stupid golden squad.  If I’m in this and Van is in his damn demon armour, we’ll tear them apart!”  His excitement was palpable and Gaddes couldn’t help but take a deep breath, struggling not to be caught up in the infectious delight.  Relief filled him at that proclamation.  The kid was still thinking about their enemies, still looking at Van as an ally however tenuous.

“What about the other unit back on the Crusade?”  Gaddes found himself asking.  “You put a lot of work into that.  Are you just going to let it rust?”  At his words, Dilandau turned around to face him, a somewhat wistful smile on his face.  Slowly, the pale youth approached him, slender hands reached out and strokes along either side of his waist before pulling the older man closer.  While they didn’t actually brush his wound, they came close enough to make him wince and Dilandau smiled slightly as he noticed the flicker of tension.

“Have you ever piloted a guymelef before?”  The teens voice was a seductive purr and he leaned forward, tracing his tongue along Gaddes’ neck, enjoying the roughened feel of incoming beard stubble.  It made him shiver slightly, turning his excitement over rediscovering his Oreades into something more visceral and enticing.

Gaddes chuckled slightly at the question though Dilandau wasn’t sure where the joke was.  The older man pulled back slightly, wanting to look him in the eyes, studying him.

“You do realize how insanely expensive Guymelef are right?”  He asked, fully aware that the kid likely had no idea at all.  In Zaibach they were mass produced for the army, easily replaced and repaired should he do something stupid like melt his down while trying to snipe someone from several miles away.  The military had always been quick to replace his units and had never complained about their prize warrior’s callous disregard for his equipment.  “Out here in the real world, those things take centuries to build and only the richest and most powerful people can afford them.  I’m just some backwater soldier.  I consider myself lucky to get to sharpen Sherezade’s sword.”

“Ever wanted to pilot one?”  The kid pressed onwards, undaunted by Gaddes’ words and earning himself a rather stunned look from the crewman.  It was the dream of every soldier to get a chance to pilot a guymelef.  There was no greater honour or accomplishment one could achieve in life.  However, even as he thought this, he remembered the horrifying death statistics of all of the men who’d died trying to make those Zaibach monstrosities work.  Even by Dilandau’s own words, they were insanely complicated and only a select few could even attempt to control them.  Did he really want to take that risk?

“I don’t know anything about how to pilot a guymelef.”  Gaddes murmured, visibly torn between living a dream and accepting the harsh reality.  “I’ve never even piloted a melef unit before.”  Rather than be upset over this fact, Dilandau simply chuckled warmly and leaned forward to kiss Gaddes deeply, his slender fingers deftly unfastening the ties of the older man’s shit.

“I know, that’s why I’m asking if you want to learn.”  The captain murmured in between intensifying kisses.  “I’d rather start with a blank slate.  It makes teaching much easier.”  Those heated lips made it rather hard to focus on questioning the reasoning behind his lovers proposition, but Gaddes wasn’t about to leap blindly into this. 

“Why?”  He managed to gasp out as his shirt slipped from his shoulders to fall to the ground, swiftly joined by Dilandau’s.  Hot flesh pressed against him, making him groan in pleasure as his own traitorous hands reached out to lightly scratch their way down that beautifully nimble spine.

“Why what?”  Apparently he wasn’t the only one having difficulty getting blood to stay in his brain.  Just to make sure, he slid his hands down his lover’s body, cupping that rather perfectly shaped ass and pressing their groins together.  This time it was Dilandau who moaned in need, deepening the kiss with renewed desperation, his silken tongue exploring the depths of Gaddes’ mouth.

Together they sank down to the ground, peeling away the remainder of their clothing until there were no barriers between their heated bodies.  Gaddes lay on his back, Dilandau straddling him, careful not to touch the long wound on his side.  For several long and glorious minutes, they simply caressed each other, drinking in the taste and feel of each other’s bodies.  Neither were in any particular hurry to rush things through.

“Why me?”  Gaddes finally gasped out as the wicked teenager finally released his lips and began to kiss and bite his way down the length of his shuddering body.  “Why not keep it as a spare for yourself?”  His fingers tangled in soft silver hair, looking so dark against the pale locks.  Giving a slight pull, he was rewarded with an approving purr and a light nip with sharp teeth just below his navel. 

“I prefer fighting with a team.  Less chance of damaging the units.”  Dilandau sounded distracted, not that Gaddes particularly minded at this moment considering the boy’s location.    His erection was screaming for attention, aching to be buried inside that beautiful body.  Of course, he certainly wasn’t going to object to that searing hot tongue which chose that moment to swipe itself along his length, causing him to gasp loudly, his hips bucking up sharply.  Pain shot through his side, but even as he gasped, strong hands pushed his hips back down and crimson eyes watched him playfully.

“Stay still.  Let me do all the work.  You just enjoy yourself.”  Dilandau grinned, lavishing him with another cruel lick.  Gaddes gave his hair another pull and the albino tilted his head just enough to kiss the palm of his hand, his expression sly and hungry.

“Why me though?”  He had no idea how he was still able to talk, his head was spinning in the most amazing ways and even forming the words seemed to take far more of his concentration than it should.  Still, he wanted to understand his lover’s motivations. 

“Are you seriously still talking?”  Dilandau chuckled at him, sounding torn between exasperation and amusement, thankfully, amusement seemed to be winning and he slid up the length of Gaddes’ body in order to speak without further distractions.  Of course, he wasn’t nearly so kind enough as to relinquish his control of the older man’s body and his hands continued the torment his mouth had stopped, lazily caressing Gaddes’straining shaft as he drank in every soft gasp.

“Yes, yes I am.  Stop distracting me.”  He growled in mock ferocity, earning himself a playful bite along his throat to go with his ever growing collection.  “Are you going to answer the question?” 

“Mmmm I don’t know, I’m finding you to be rather delicious at the moment.”  Several more somewhat gentle bites were placed along his collarbone before a hot slick tongue traced over the sensitive flesh.  “Much better than how you tasted with all of that vile Beast medicine gunk all over you.” 

“Familiar with what that was are you?”  Being fully aware of how human centric the Zaibach Empire was, Gaddes couldn’t quite resist throwing out that little barb.  Belatedly, he remembered that Dilandau had admitted to spending months living with Beastmen for training purposes and had even had a dog-man on his team.  In hindsight, he likely deserved the bite he got in lieu of an answer.  It would go well with the one on his shoulder which he was pretty sure was actually going to leave a scar. 

“Now who’s being a distraction?”  The captain shot back with a grin before favouring him with a brief yet achingly intense kiss.  “If you must know though; after that little fight against those Basram dogs and our subsequent talk, I’ve come to the realization that you’re not going to be intelligent and leave the fighting to me.” 

“Excuse me?  You lost the right to call yourself the intelligent one in this relationship when you attacked a fucking guymelef… and those fighters were likely more Zaibach deserters.  No one else can figure out your damn machines, remember?”   That earned him another sharp bite though he wasn’t sure which comment spurred it, both were likely far more accurate than the youth would have liked.

“As I was saying.”  A slender finger pressed against his lips, advising that he not interrupt any further.  “You’ve made it clear that you won’t keep yourself safe if I’m in battle, so I’m going to ensure that you’re fully capable of fighting alongside me.”  Exhilaration filled Gaddes at those words and he knew just what it cost the young albino to make that statement.  The flattery was also rather nice seeing as how he knew damn well that Dilandau would allow nothing but the best to accompany him into battle.

“I’m not one of your Dragonslayers.”  He advised softly, remembering how he so often heard his own name repeated along with those of the lost squad during the youths many nightmares.  While he loved the offer being made and thrilled at the chance his lover was giving him, he didn’t want to become an emotional crutch, a replacement for what had been lost.

“Of course you’re not.”  Dilandau scoffed lightly.  “You’re not nearly pretty enough.”  Both of them chuckled at that before Dilandau shifted his weight once more, pressing against the older man rather insistently.  “Now, are we finished talking?  I for one would love to have sex right now.”  A subtle rocking and twisting of his hips stole Gaddes’ breath away and all he could do was nod his head quickly, more than ready to stop talking.  “Good, now remember, try not to move, you’re old and injured.  I’d hate to break you.” 

He thought about trying to prove the brat wrong, but right now, he simply felt too good to complain.  After all he’d been through; he deserved a little spoiling, especially when it was so enthusiastically offered.  

***

 

 

Surprisingly, Gaddes was the first of them to awaken.  Their bodies were still pressed together in an intimate tangle of arms and legs.  Dilandau’s head was currently tucked in tightly against his armpit, the youth’s soft breath lightly ticking his skin. 

“Don’t need more than an hour of sleep my ass.”  He grinned down at his sleeping lover, enjoying how beautiful he looked in this unguarded moment.  Hearing his voice, the albino murmured something softly and snuggled a little closer.  The arm currently splayed across his chest reaching over to his side and tightening his grip just in case the older man tried to leave. 

The sun had risen an hour ago judging by the angle of light on the forest floor though none of it was hitting them yet, saving him from worrying about Dilandau’s snowy white skin being ravaged with burns.   Knowing that neither of them were pressed for time, he opted to lay back and simply enjoy the sounds of the early morning forest around them.  Birds were singing rather pleasantly and off on the right he could hear the soft rustling of some small forest creature nosing its way through the underbrush. 

Considering the amount of injuries on his body, he felt rather good this morning, actually, the correct term would be fan-fuckingtastic if he wanted to be perfectly honest.  He’d had a bath, had his wounds tended, had the most gentle yet still amazingly mind blowing sex with his lover… He’d never have pictured Dilandau as being a thoughtful lover, but he’d shown that rare side of himself last night and Gaddes had no complaints at all.  Well, perhaps maybe one.

He frowned slightly as he let his gaze travel upwards to take in the towering form of the Oreades unit which was currently giving them the shade they were enjoying.  The idea of making love at the feet of the machine which had slaughtered so many brave soldiers, taken part in a battle which had nearly brought the fragile alliance to a screeching halt wasn’t his idea of a romantic location.  Jeture, he could still see the singe marks on the feet of the guymelef.  It was a cruel reminder of the different paths the two of them had taken up until now.

Supressing a shudder, Gaddes reached over and gently stroked the silver white hair of the young albino, shifting just enough to be able to kiss his pale brow.  Again, the youth murmured something unintelligible and nuzzled him rather indulgently.  It was utterly adorable really, though he would never dare say it to the boy’s face.

Deciding that he was going to be here for at least another little while, Gaddes closed his eyes and thought about what had been said last night. Did Dilandau honestly want him as a fighting partner?  That was a dumb question; Dilandau never would have brought it up if he didn’t want it.  The boy might be many things, but he seemed to enjoy his brutal honesty.   The question of whether he was seeing the older man as a replacement for his lost slayers was another matter entirely.  That one he wasn’t too sure about. 

Dilandau was a lost lonely and unbalanced young man who was still suffering from the crushing loss of his friends.  He was so petrified of being alone that Gaddes didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d easily convinced himself that the offer was meant in good faith rather than grasping at reclaiming what had been lost.  Trying to convince him otherwise likely wouldn’t get the older man very far seeing as how the Zaibach youth wasn’t overly fond of introspection. 

Looking up at the hulking machine again, Gaddes couldn’t help but feel another shiver of trepidation.  Could he learn how to pilot one of those things?  So many people had died trying, what made him think that he’d manage?  Sure, he’d have Zaibach’s best pilot teaching him every step of the way but he wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking for even a moment that the kid was going to be an easy teacher.  He knew the brat well enough to know that he’d be pushed to his limits and beyond, expected to be perfect no matter the situation.  Could he handle that?  More complicated was the question of what would it do to his place on the Crusade crew and his relationship with Allen? 

Could he still be the second in command when he was then also accepting being Dilandau’s subordinate?  What happened when the kid finally decided to return to Zaibach or follow a different path from the Boss?  Worse, would this cost him the small scraps of authority he actually had with the kid?  Right now, his control over the teenager was tenuous at best, but he’d still managed to stay his hand several times when the kid had been ready to slaughter his way through a situation.  Would Dilandau still stop once he felt that he was the one in control?  Or was Gaddes simply deluding himself into believing that he ever controlled the brat? 

A beetle wandered across his chest, narrowly missing bumping into Dilandau’s nose before veering away.  Idly, Gaddes flicked it away then frowned, realizing that here they were sleeping on the forest floor when there were perfectly good beds back at the manor.  Not to mention baths, proper toilets and food… lots of delicious food.

On cue, his stomach growled loudly enough to make Dilandau’s nose wrinkle slightly, a sure sign that he was finally waking up. 

When crimson eyes fluttered open, Gaddes’ world stopped as he was greeted with an utterly unguarded moment of absolute trust and openness in their shining gaze.  He’d never in his life had anyone ever look at him like that before and it made his heart almost leap up his throat as it danced in joy.  Dimly, some small part of him wondered how Allen had ever managed to give this up.  Sibling or not, this beautiful youth was a gift from every god of Gaea and the idea of ever turning his back on anyone so perfect was simply beyond the crewman’s comprehension. 

Caught up in the sheer wonder of the moment, he leaned forward and gently kissed those beautiful smiling lips.  Strong slender fingers reached up and stroked through his hair, massaging his scalp even as that delectable body pressed against his own, letting him feel the boy’s morning arousal.  No, Dilandau was many things but shy certainly wasn’t one of them.

Unable to help himself, Gaddes chuckled softly, earning himself a somewhat confused look and a raised eyebrow that would have made Alberto proud.  

“Something funny?”  Dilandau asked softly, the hint of a smile edging his lips as his hands stroked their way down Gaddes’ body to cup the man’s own half hard flesh, giving him a few rather skilled strokes.

“Mmm, just… just thinking about how amazing it is to wake up like this.”  He found himself murmuring in response, his hips rocking slightly, pressing himself into those lovely hands. 

“Oh, I agree.  I like not having to be quiet.”  The youth grinned wickedly, twisting himself so that he straddled the older man once again.  “I also rather like that no one’s attacked us yet.  Do you think that we’ve finally broken that little curse or do you think we should test it out again?”  Grinning up at him, Gaddes grabbed his hips, shifting his position slightly so that he was far more strategically placed on his lap.

“Definitely.  We definitely need to test it out.”

 

Afterwards, they rinsed themselves off in the nearby pond.  Gaddes lay back on a large flat rock by the shore drinking in the warm sun while Dilandau poked around the nearby plant life, grumbling about how there were so many useless things growing.  The older man couldn’t help but notice the youth stuffing a few handfuls of glar leaves in his jacket pockets however.  Not that he was complaining, those things had proven to be as effective as they were smelly and he had the strong feeling that they’d need them in the future.

“So, were you intending to head back to the manor at all today?”  He found himself asking the albino as he sat up to admire some rather lovely and large fish poking around the base of his rock.  Their bodies glistened like fine jewels as they moved and their long flowing tails made the creatures look like they were flying rather than swimming.  He could easily picture Celena spending hours here, enjoying their graceful dances.

“I’m not going to go back so long as that old bastard has it in his head that he can order me around.  I don’t listen to servants.”  Dilandau spat out fiercely.  Gaddes didn’t even have to look to know that the kid was glaring fiercely in the direction of the manor.  “Besides, the damn place is supposed to be mine as well right?  I should be able to fire him for his impertinence.”

“Only the Boss can do that.”  Gaddes advised with a hint of a smile, fully aware that Allen would do no such thing.  Alberto was like a defacto father to him and was invaluable to the smooth running of the household.  “You could recommend it, but then you’d have to say why.  Somehow I doubt the boss will be overly sympathetic towards you complaining that he wouldn’t let you get laid by an older man as an adequate reason.  Just saying.”

“I could say that he forced me out because the stick up his ass was in too deep and he wouldn’t let you be there for when I had my nightmares.  Who knows what I might have done?  I could have hurt myself!”  Gaddes looked over just in time to see Dilandau looking at him with wide eyes, doing his best to look innocent… and failing.  It was the eyes that spoiled it, he finally decided.  There was just too much malice glittering in their depths for anyone to believe.

“You know that if you’d just explained to Alberto about the nightmares, he likely would have let me share the room with you.  Separate beds of course, but it would have been something.”  This time Dilandau rolled his eyes in response, making an annoyed sound in the back of his throat.

“I don’t explain myself to servants and I certainly don’t admit to such weaknesses in front of them.  On the Vione, the servants were petrified of me, and for damn good reason.”  Gaddes didn’t want to know the reasons, he really didn’t.  They were far too easy to imagine.

“Yeah… well, unless you can hold your breath better than the whale people, you won’t be spending much time on the Vione.  You need to start accepting that things have changed and you’re going to have to be a little more tolerant towards people who you don’t see as your equal.”

“I have been more than accommodating!”  Dilandau protested loudly, sounding every bit like the petulant teenager he was.  “I haven’t killed any of the useless pissants have I?”

“You do realize that not randomly murdering people isn’t really considered to be an accomplishment right?  It’s expected behavior.”

“I realize that.  I consider not randomly murdering idiots to be the accomplishment.  Anyone who gets in my way is clearly an idiot.”  The glare shot in his direction was heated but not murderous, Dilandau was clearly still in a good mood.  It said a lot about the closeness of their relationship when he could judge the level of homicidal rage in the youth accurately.   Too bad Gaddes wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.  “Maybe I should just make an example or two to remind people that I don’t like to be bothered or questioned, then they’d learn their place.”  It was hard to tell if that was being said in jest or not.

“Oooor, you could just do the wild and crazy thing and tell them?”  With a sigh, Gaddes slid off of his nice warm rock and waded through the shallows to stand next to the dangerous youth.  The shining fish nibbled curiously at his leg hair, trying to figure out if he was edible.  Clearly none of them found his size the least bit daunting, making him wonder if he was the only living thing present with a lick of common sense.

Leaving the water, he pulled Dilandau into his arms and gave him a gentle kiss on the temple.

“Just remember, the more vicious you act, the less likely people will want to work with you.  This isn’t the Zaibach military and we’re not at war yet.  You need to change your tactics if you want to guarantee success.”  At least that seemed to get through the kids thick skull and Gaddes was rewarded with a slight nod.  The acknowledgement was grudging and full of resentment, but it was something at least.

“Good, now are you ready to head back to the manor?  Breakfast should be ready and the others are likely worried about us.”

“I’m bringing the Oreades.”  Dilandau stated with that familiar tone of obstinacy that Gaddes had unfortunately gotten far too familiar with.  As he drew in a deep breath, preparing all the reasons why this would be an absolutely horrible idea, the kid crossed his arms over his chest and fixed him with a level glare.  “I’m not leaving it out here and risk someone stumbling onto it.  It would be dragged back to the city and torn apart for the entertainment of the masses.  I won’t let that happen.  This is mine and I intend to protect it.”  Crimson eyes narrowed in warning, destroying any possible argument Gaddes might have come up with.  The kid was right with what would happen to the machine if it was ever found and honestly, it was pure chance that no one had stumbled onto it so far.   Now that it was uncovered, the chances of discovery had grown exponentially.  Still, how did one hide a giant war machine?  It’s not like they had the Crusade handy.  Of course, they did have the guymelef shed… but how in Jetures name were they supposed to get it there without anyone seeing?

The answer was of course so obvious that Gaddes wanted to hit himself in the head for not thinking of it sooner.

“That thing has stealth technology right?”  He asked and received a somewhat guarded nod in return.  “Great.  What I need you to do is fly to the manor, there’s a large shed for storing Sherezade.  The Boss doesn’t let anyone in there but himself, so no one should be snooping around.  I want you to land by the door and stealth yourself.  I’ll get Alberto to open it up for us.  We can hide it inside until Crusade arrives.”  When it got here, Gaddes had no doubt that he was going to be in for the lecture of his life.  He already knew how much the Boss hated the blue Alseides the kid had adopted.  To come home and find a nice shiny crimson Oreades unit waiting in the shed was just going to make his day.  Hopefully he’ll be so happy to find them all in one piece that he’ll forget how furious he should be.  Yeah…right.

At least the kid wasn’t wasting his time worrying about silly little details like consequences to his actions.  He’d already scrambled up the leg of the guymelef and slipped back into the cockpit while Gaddes was busy ruminating.  It was the sound of the engines powering back up that caught the man’s attention, giving him just enough time to yelp in horror as one of the massive arms reached out towards him and crima claws shot out.

For the briefest of instants, he was positive that he was going to die.  Instead, the cold liquid metal engulfed his lower half and pulled him securely onto the arm of the Oreades. 

In his most odd flights of fantasy, he’d often wondered what crima metal would feel like.  Not the hard deadly shafts which had torn into him, but instead the material in its liquid form, the sort that flooded the cockpits or twisted around like a living thing.  Now he knew… it was like a thick jelly, only firmer as it settled around him, conforming to his shape but allowing just enough malleability that it wouldn’t snap his body once they began to move.  That was rather thoughtful of the brat.  He’d have to thank him once he finished having a panic attack.

“I’ll go slow so you don’t’ get hurt.”  Dilandau’s voice echoed over the speaker.  “But you might want to close your eyes or cover them.  I don’t want to cover your face in crima metal, you might suffocate.”

“That is hardly comforting you know!”  He yelled back, still doing his best to get his heartrate back under control and doing his best to not think about how the kid had once used this very tactic to crush a doppleganger to death.  It would take little more than the flick of a switch to command those metal tendrils to squeeze the life out of him and his bones would offer little resistance.  “He won’t kill me, he won’t kill me.”  Gaddes found himself murmuring softly.  His desperate mantra was interrupted by a sudden lurch and sharp jolt as the ground suddenly rushed away from them at an alarming speed.

Gaddes had never been scared of heights, hells, he loved hanging out on the deck of the Crusade, admiring the best view on Gaea, but being outside and held aloft by nothing but deadly liquid metal wrapped around his body was a whole new experience.

Truth be told, it was more than a little exhilarating.  The air seemed to roar as it tore past him, making his eyes water and stealing the breath from his lungs.  Did Van feel like this when he flew?  Curious, Gaddes threw his arms out wide and let out a loud whoop of delight as the air pressed against him, pulling at his clothes and hair.  The crima surrounding him shifted slightly to offer more support along his back as the unit banked carefully and the manor became visible over the treetops.

It only occurred to him now, how low they were actually flying.  Curious, he glanced back to look at the main body of the guymelef and realized that it was completely invisible.  Gasping in shock, Gaddes twisted around as much as the restraining liquid metal would let him, trying to spot any hint of the machine.  NO! NO WAY!!  Zaibach couldn’t hide their units in flight mode!  It was impossible!  How had they not realized this!?  What was worse was that as slowly as they were moving, there was barely even any sound of the engines.  As if the Oreades wasn’t terrifying enough, now the brat could likely fly this thing right into the main courtyard of the palace and no one would even realize until it was too late!  The very thought chilled him to the bone, making him wonder why Zaibach hadn’t employed such a tactic during the war.  Not that he was complaining mind you… but it was something to think about and perhaps ask Dilandau about. 

At least on the positive side, it meant that none of the servants would hear them arrive or think that there was anything out of sorts taking place.  Still, he was glad that the kid was sticking low to the ground.  As fun as this was, he knew how quickly he could freeze if they travelled up too high, especially with nothing protecting him but liquid metal.

Knowing that any directions he tried to voice would be lost in the roaring wind around him, he settled for simply pointing and hoping that the brat had something in that machine of his that would let him see the gesture.  Considering how quickly the machine banked, following his direction, that seemed to be the case and in moments, they were heading for the appropriate building. 

Once they were facing it, it was simple enough to see.  There was only one large building flanked by a flattened and sandy training area.  Next to it was a special forge for conducting repairs.  Most of the noble houses who were powerful enough to have guymelefs had them.  It was far easier to have the Master Smith come to them and have everything necessary on hand than to try to either bring in a damaged unit, or have the poor smith bring the needed tools.

With surprising silence, Dilandau landed the unit by the doors and carefully lowered Gaddes to the ground.  He saw the ripples of movement as the tendrils loosened enough to ensure he touched down safely before they snapped back into the arm. 

Now that they weren’t racing around at high speed, he could make out the telltale shimmer of the stealth cloak, but even as he watched, that seemed to fade from sight.  Apparently, this unit’s stealth technology had been improved upon on several levels.  The only way he even knew it was there was due to the flattened ground beneath its feet.

“I’ll go get Alberto.”  He announced, still somewhat unnerved by the nothingness where he knew an eight costa guymelef stood.  Making a point to mark the location of the footprints in his mind, he then raced off towards the manor, hoping that on the way back he didn’t run into the damn thing.  He’d never hear the end of it.

When he entered the manor, he could tell that breakfast was currently being served and adjusted his course accordingly, bursting in on Van and Palos just beginning to break their fasts. 

The instant he entered the room, Van was on his feet and glaring at Gaddes angrily.

“Where the hell were you two?  Alberto was worried sick all night and I don’t think the man got a wink of sleep!  He was petrified that he’d sent Dilandau out to die of exposure!”  That stopped him short and he took a moment to gape at the angry king.

“But… the weather was gorgeous last night, how could he die of exposure?”

“I tried to tell him that, but he was convinced that he’d driven him away and now the psycho was dead in a ditch somewhere.  Tell me he’s not dead in a ditch.”

“Like he’d be that easy to kill.  Come on Van, you know better than that.”

“Then where is he?  I want to tear a strip off of him for nearly giving that poor servant a heart attack.”

“He’s… working on the next heart attack actually.  Look, where is Alberto?  I sort of need him right now.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!”  Van hissed, grabbing onto Gaddes’ arm and pulling him away from the table.  “I’m not an idiot you know, despite what Dilandau thinks.  I know something is going on between you two and I know that he’s up to something that no sane person would approve of or else he’d be with you right now.  So tell me now because I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know the truth.”  One look into those burning brown eyes and Gaddes knew that he was out of room to retreat.  The king would find out one way or another, but this really wasn’t the best time or place, especially with that nosy messenger only a table length away.

Palos was of course making no attempt to hide the fact that he was listening to the argument, likely adding what was said to his own list of suspicions.  Anything he heard was going to be circulating around court the instant he got back, and most of it could land them all in very serious trouble.

“Look, I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but I need to find Alberto.  Quickly if possible, the last thing we need is for the brat to get impatient.”

“I’m going to hate knowing what this is about aren’t I?”

“Oh yes.  Very much so.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but agree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter!: Alberto has a heart attack, A new player enters the game and gasp... could Dilandau finally be acting cooperative?
> 
> Yeah, I hadn't even thought of the damn Oreades till I sat back and thought "Wait a minute, Celena left the damn guymelef in the woods after Rampant! There's an absolutely kickass guymelef just sitting there waiting to be played with!!" And that just sparked a whole new slew of ideas. Muahaha.
> 
> Yeah, I know I glossed over the sex scenes here. I don't want them to become repetitive by being in every single chapter. We know what they're doing, we know they do it pretty regularly and hey, apparently poisonings, stabbings and protective servants don't even stop them! Poor Gaddes, he's going to be worn out soon.
> 
> As for the whole age thing. Yes, 16 is hideously young for sex when the other partner is in their 20's, but in the show, no one looked twice at Allen wooing Hitomi, so on Gaea, I don't think the age difference is a big thing. In Zaibach, Dilandau is considered an adult, and he see's himself as such and has for years. I can however see the Astorians frowning on homosexuality amongst the nobility because bloodlines would be incredibly important. The nobles need to make more little nobles after all... and I sort of see the Astorians as being very caught up in "Proper behavior" for men and women. Look at the flak Millerna got for wanting to study medicine and how Dryden (A merchant) was going to be the heir by marrying her, rather than her having the power. Dilandau is going to have a hard time in Astoria and not just because of his past visits.


	22. Strange Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang has a busy morning full of fun surprises they'd much rather do without

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne nor do I own the characters. I'm not making money, I'm just having fun.
> 
> The chapters are moving along quickly now and I start making life much more difficult for them all. No, Hitomi won't be showing up on Gaea to save the day, she has her own life, though she'll give the odd bit of advice to help out. This isn't her war and while she loves her friends, she's not going through that crap a second time.

                “You left the young master outside alone?!”  Alberto wasn’t taking things well at all.  It looked as if he might very well be about to have that heart attack Gaddes had just been joking about.  It seemed that a lifetime of serving the Schezar’s had in fact left the servant ill prepared for the Dragonslayer captain and his peculiar batch of crazy.  

When Van had warned him that the aging man hadn’t taken Dilandau’s abrupt departure well, it had in fact been a rather profound understatement.  Alberto didn’t look like he’d slept a wink at all last night and he practically shook with nervous tension.  Dark bags shadowed his eyes, his hair lacked its usual polished look and there was a deep aura of guilt that surrounded him.  Gaddes could well imagine that the poor man had spent the entire night imagining all sorts of horrible fates that could have befallen the teenager.  No doubt Alberto had fretted over all of them.

“He’s sick and weakened!  It’s bad enough that I foolishly let him leave last night but for you to willingly abandon him!?  He could be hurt!  What if someone sees him?”    Gaddes took a slight step back when confronted by the near panicked man, rather positive that he was about to be throttled.  Instead, he held up his hands in a sign of surrender, hoping that the servant recalled that he was also still recovering from some rather nasty wounds and poisoning.

“For Jeture’s sake.  He’s not abandoned!”  Gaddes interrupted the tirade before it could gain too much momentum.  “He’s out back by the guymelef shed.  We need you to open it for us.”  Thus proving yet again that Gaddes had all the subtle tact of a bag full of hammers.  Van paled at his words then almost immediately flushed a rather unhealthy red as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  Palos looked about ready for another panic attack at hearing Dilandau and Guymelef together in the same sentence.  Yeah, this wasn’t looking to be one of the crewman’s better days.

“Just come with me and open the door?  Please?”  He added, hoping to knock the older servant out of his shocked fugue.  Truthfully, he didn’t like leaving the kid alone unsupervised in a state of the art killing machine.  It just seemed like a recipe for mayhem.

“Yes!  Yes of course.”  Alberto seemed to be speaking more to himself than anyone as he began moving towards the door, pausing only long enough to grab a cloak from a hall closet.  Gaddes had to keep from rolling his eyes at the idea of this servant trying to wrap the youngest Schezar up in it like some errant child.  The man was going to be punched at the very least. 

“Are you going to give us any warning on what we’re about to walk into?”  Van asked, speaking through clenched teeth.  Gaddes noticed that the king had his sword hanging from his hip and his hand rested lightly on it, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.   When Gaddes didn’t immediately answer him, the frown deepened.   “I see.”  He murmured.  The older man suddenly found it nearly impossible to meet his friends gaze.  Instead, he focussed solely on keeping up with Alberto’s long strides.  For an old man, he could certainly move when properly motivated.   

                “Van… you and Palos don’t really need to be here you know…”  He hedged slightly, wishing that he could at least get the damn Oreades put away before the inevitable fireworks erupted between them all.

                “Why?”  The messenger asked, suddenly much braver when the young captain wasn’t visibly present.  “He’s obviously up to something and you don’t want either of us to figure it out.”  Gaddes winced slightly at that, realizing just how obvious he’d been.  “Are you worried that we’re going to figure out about your relationship?  Because we’ve pretty much figured that one out you know.”  Palos continued, sounding as if he was actually gloating over the knowledge.

                Gaddes froze in his tracks, his heart leaping up into his throat at the words.  Really, he shouldn’t be at all surprised that they’d drawn the right conclusions.  It’s not as if he’d been overly subtle, especially when they’d first appeared in the graveyard.  Neither men were idiots and were fully capable of putting two and two together in the face of overwhelming evidence.  Just what he needed, another problem to deal with.

                Even as he opened his mouth to say something to the messenger, Van stopped dead in his tracks.  His brown eyes grew wide with horror as he stared at the front of the guymelef shed.  One hand immediately clutched at the front of his shirt, likely holding onto Hitomi’s pendant while his other hand drew his sword.  It was an ultimately useless gesture considering what was standing there, but Gaddes knew better than to say anything.

                “What?!  He…. How?”  Van blurted out, his voice so chocked with shock that Palos actually drew his own sword in response, looking around worriedly for an enemy he couldn’t see.  

                “An invisible guymelef?!”  And that’s about when Gaddes remembered that Van had a penchant for seeing stealthed guymelef’s.  Worse, having blurted it out loudly, there was no doubt that Dilandau had inevitably heard the damning words.  Hopefully it didn’t remind the young captain of how lethally that skill had been used against him and set off a rage fueled rampage.  He’d had more than enough of those. 

There was the faintest shimmer to the air up above them, only noticeable because Gaddes knew where to look.  The stealth cloak had shifted slightly and Gaddes could make out the shape of a small flexible periscope floating up around where he imagined the head of the Oreades might be.  Dilandau had been watching them arrive and more than likely was now carefully taking aim at the king.

Unsure of exactly how well Van could actually see the machine, Gaddes did his best to unobtrusively step between the two teenagers, using his natural height to foil any crima attack the albino might be planning.   All they had to do was stay calm and everything would work out just fine.  Alberto could open the door; Dilandau could slip inside and then leave his crimson monster hidden away inside.  It sounded so simple, something anyone could do… too bad things never worked out that well for him.

 “Oh yeah… I almost forgot that you can see me Van.”  The eerie mechanized voice of Dilandau echoed out of thin air.  The edge of malice was clear for anyone with ears and Gaddes couldn’t help but feel his stomach clench nervously in response.   The kid hadn’t forgotten that for a second.  He was likely counting on it and was using that knowledge to goad the king into violence “forcing” him to defend himself against his nemesis, thereby breaking their truce.

At the sound of the voice, Palos let out a rather undignified screech and actually dropped his sword on the ground, his fingers suddenly nerveless.  It was a safe bet that he likely needed new trousers once again.

Van however was undaunted.  The short youth dropped down into a crouch and his lips pulled back into a soundless snarl as he prepared to fight for his life.  Like Dilandau, the very idea that it was an impossible fight didn’t seem to faze him in the least, leaving Gaddes to wonder if all teenagers were suicidally insane or if he was just lucky to keep running into the ones who were.

“What the hell is with you two trying to fight guymelefs armed with only swords?”  Gaddes yelled, spinning around to glare at the king.  “Put that away, he’s not going to attack you.”  He then turned to address the empty space he knew Dilandau was hidden in, adopting the most authoritative voice he could come up with.

“And you stop trying to intimidate Van, that’s not helping anyone!  Behave or we’ll take your toys away.”  There was a soft echo of sound which might have been either a grunt or a snicker.  It was rather hard to tell, but at least no crima claws shot out at them. 

Swearing loudly, Gaddes walked over to Palos and picked his sword up before shoving it back at the terrified man who fumbled for several moments before giving up on trying to sheathe the weapon properly.

“Get over it.”  He murmured softly, noting with some relief that the coward hadn’t soiled himself… this time.  “Alberto, could you open up the doors to the shed now?  We’re not accomplishing anything by just standing around here gawking.” 

A quick glance warned that the man was standing there in shock, his eyes wide beneath those bushy eyebrows as he stared at the nothingness in front of them.

“I…. I…”  The servant stammered, utterly at loss with the situation.  This was all clearly well beyond his pay grade and not at all what he’d expected when he’d accepted them all into the Schezar manor yesterday.

“Welcome to my life.”  Gaddes sighed softly, finally stepping away from Palos after giving him a stern glare to stay in place then patting Alberto gently on the shoulder.  “He’s not about to attack, you’re perfectly safe.”  Yes, he could say that with confidence mostly because if he had been hell bent on killing them all, he’d have attacked before anyone was aware that he was there.  Still, there was no point in actually saying that out loud when everyone was so obviously twitchy.

“Where did you get that thing?”  Van glared up at the periscope, slashing the air angrily with his sword, daring the albino to just try something nefarious.  The soft purring giggle that filled the air was chilling, bringing back memories of old and darker times for the group.  Granted, Gaddes couldn’t help but also feel a rather strong stirring of lust at the sound of that delicious voice.  It was so expressive in tone even with the mechanization of the speakers.  Right now, he recognized that _I’m utterly fucking with you and loving every minute of it_ laugh and could practically feel his pants tighten around his arousal.

“Found it.”  Dilandau replied happily.  “It’s a talent of mine.”

“Gaddes?”  Unimpressed with the answer, Van turned to look at him accusingly, obviously expecting the crewman to be more forthcoming.  There was no hiding the slight reddening of his cheeks though he hoped that no one noticed the growing bulge in his trousers.  Dammit you’d think he was the sixteen year old here.  At least for once it worked in his favour that Van knew he couldn’t lie worth shit when being looked in the eye.  Thankfully, he could honestly tell the truth in this situation… so long as there weren’t too many follow up questions. 

 “He’s right, last night we were out in the woods and we found it.”  He stated clearly, holding the king’s gaze before dropping his voice so that Palos wouldn’t hear.  “It’s the one from Rampant.”  Gaddes clarified, noting the narrowing of the king’s eyes and the way his grip tightened on his sword.  “Apparently he’d ditched it in the woods when he appeared here the first time via that pillar of light.”

“He knew it was here?”  Jeture, did Van have to sound so accusing?  Without letting his gaze waver, Gaddes continued with the explanation, hoping that up above, Dilandau wasn’t growing bored with the delay.

“No, we honestly just stumbled onto it… well, onto a piece of his armour.  From there he tracked down the guymelef.”  He wasn’t going to elaborate on just how that had been done.  Dilandau had put a great deal of trust in him, showing him that dowsing ability.  He wasn’t about to betray that trust just to ease Van’s ruffled feathers.  “Look, can we just get this hidden away?   That’s what he came back to do.”

Alberto had been obviously listening to the conversation because he winced slightly at that, realizing that his young master hadn’t come back out of any sense of forgiveness or contrition.  Without a word, the old man pulled a keyring from his jacket and sorted through it with brisk efficiency.  In moments, he had the huge door unlocked, but it took all of them straining to open the massive thing.

Ensuring that everyone was out of the path it would take, Gaddes watched as deep footsteps compressed the ground one after another.  There was surprisingly little sound considering the weight of the monstrosity.  That alone was a terrifying display of the kid’s skill with the machine and served as further warning of just what he was capable of.  Not even Escaflowne of Sherezade could move like that.

Only after it had entered the shed and the door closed firmly behind it did Dilandau remove the stealth cloak.  The air in front of them all shimmered eerily like rippling water as the massive mantle slid back, becoming the familiar draping cloak hanging from the bulbous shoulders.

“The Oreades.”  Van murmured in revulsion, his voice tight with anger and his brown eyes glinted angrily.  At least he’d sheathed his sword, finally realizing that it was useless so long as Dilandau was in his toy.

Now that he’d at least gotten over his initial shock at seeing the massive war machine, Gaddes had to admit that there was a certain beauty to the monster.  It was somewhat larger than the Alseides unit hidden away in the Crusade and had a certain elegance to the design.  The extra energist in the shoulders still were an unnerving sight, their subtle green glow reminding him of eyes, staring down at his pitilessly.

They all watched with awe and dread as the massive machine walked calmly over to one of the docking bays and then knelt down.  For a moment, all was silent, then the energists in the shoulders seemed to darken slightly as it was powered down and the faint hum of engines ceased.  The sharp hiss of hydraulics being activated cut through the air as the cockpit door opened and Dilandau stepped out.

A huge grin was plastered on his face and his eyes practically glowed with delight at having been back in his old machine, everything pre-configured exactly how he wanted it.  Happily, he hopped onto the loading deck and practically skipped down the stairs towards them.  Only Gaddes knew him well enough to notice the stiffness in his movements or realized that if the brat had lowered himself to actually using the platform, he felt he was too injured to simply hop down the machine as he usually did.

A suspicious glance back at the cockpit reminded him of how Dilandau had commented on how dangerous it was to fly without flooding the cockpit, something the kid obviously hadn’t done judging by how dry his clothes looked.  Dammit!

Angrily, the crewman stalked over to his charge and glared down at him accusingly, not even giving Van a chance to begin his expected tirade.

“How bad are you hurt?”  He asked, sorely tempted to reach out and give the brat a few good solid shakes by the scruff of the neck just to remind him of his own mortality.  Dilandau simply flashed him that beautifully elated smile and waved away his concern.

“I was careful, just a few bruises and a slightly strained muscle across my back.  It’s nothing.”

“Didn’t you say that that thing could snap your spine if you weren’t careful?”

“I wasn’t doing combat manoeuvers Fanelian, relax.  I’ll be fine after a hot bath and a massage.”  Drawing in breath, ready to lance into the brat with another scathing retort, Gaddes suddenly found himself at a loss for words.  His brain seemed to have latched onto the idea of giving his beautiful lover a rather nice massage and refused to be moved from the accompanying mental images.  No doubt that’s exactly what Dilandau had intended to happen because the manipulative bastard actually smirked at him, those gorgeous crimson eyes of his glinting with promise.

“Any other surprises you want to hit us with?”  Van grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and favouring the two conspirators with an icy glare.  Shifting slightly to look around Gaddes’ body, Dilandau smiled pleasantly at him, far too entertained by today’s events to be at all bothered by his tone of voice.

“No, I think we’ll hold onto the others until Schezar is here.  I love watching his left eye twitch when he’s trying not to scream at me.  It’s almost as much fun as pissing off Folken.”  His smile turned devious as he glanced back at his beautiful Oreades, reaching out a hand to trace it lovingly over one of its smooth metal legs.

“You would think that you’d be more appreciative of my guymelef Van.”  He all but purred.  “This was your dear brother’s final masterpiece after all.”  Though he pretended to ignore the king in favour of admiring his lovely machine, the look of shock and horror on the other teenagers face was everything he hoped it would be and he had to fight to keep from licking his lips as he savoured digging at the old wound.  Hitting the brat king with the big brother feels was never going to get old.

“Perfected stealth cloak, dual flame attachments, additional power for the crima claws not to mention an assortment of other treats and goodies.  Isn’t it beautiful?  There isn’t a more advanced guymelef on Gaea.”  Just looking at the smooth sleek lines and imagining its deadly power aroused him.  It must have been evident in his voice because it earned him an odd look from Gaddes.  He couldn’t help it, war machines turned him on.  They were death incarnate, what could be more beautiful than that?

“And yet I tore through yours and your pals like paper in that final battle.”  Van just had to ruin his mood, the pompous little runt.  Snatching his hand away from the cool metal as if burned, Dilandau spun around to glare murderously at the king.  He was vaguely aware of Gaddes stiffening and reaching out a hand to hold him back just in case he drew his sword.  As if he’d be that stupid to be the one to break the truce.  He’d wait for Van to make that move then run the little royal bastard through… repeatedly.  Fixing a murderous glare at the king, he struggled to swallow his initial homicidal impulses, instead using his words to wound in retaliation. 

“Big accomplishment Van.”  He snarled softly, his fists clenched tightly at his side. “I was in the middle of a psychological meltdown.  A kid with a rock could have probably taken me out at that point and I wouldn’t have noticed.”  Turning away, he began walking towards the door of the shed, suddenly not wanting to be around anyone anymore, that golden glow of happiness that had suffused him since he’d laid eyes on his precious guymelef had melted away, leaving only raw gaping wounds for the screams to echo through. 

He could hear their voices in the back of his mind, calling out to him to save them, desperately crying his name over and over with their last breaths.  Dimly he wondered if it was his Dragonslayers trying to reach him, or simply his madness threatening to take over once again.  Either way, it infuriated him to the point that he could see red edging his vision and knew that if he didn’t leave now, blood would be shed.  Still, he had one more barb to throw, and took a moment to savour it.

 “By the way, the pilot you murdered trying to get to me, the beastman?  His name was Jajuka.”  He snarled as he brushed roughly past the king, forcing the shorter youth to step back or be slammed into.  “He loved Celena.  He had for years and he was the only person to ever try to protect her from the Madoushi.”  Though his back was turned to the others, he could feel the king stiffen in shock and horror at his words and he couldn’t resist pushing the knife in a little deeper.

“He was her only light in the darkness, her only friend.  Seeing him die… hearing his screams… why I suppose it would be a lot like someone butchering your little cat girl right in front of you.  Would she tear apart like paper too?”  Glancing over his shoulder, he favoured the sickened looking king with a sweet smile.  “What was her name again?  Oh yes, Merle.”  Feeling that he’d effectively made his point, he stepped outside, feeling somewhat better now that he’d hurt someone.

“Was that a threat?”  Van growled ominously, glaring at the now empty doorway; ready to head out there and give the damn psychopath a piece of his mind.  Gaddes stood next to him, rubbing his temples with his fingertips, his earlier smile faded.  He’d seen the look of devastation in those crimson eyes before rage had hidden it away.  Dammit, those two were always going to take chunks out of each other the instant one of them dropped their guard, weren’t they?

“No.”  He sighed heavily, glancing back up at the huge Oreades for a moment before looking back at Van, doing his best to keep his cool rather than racing out after the furious Dragonslayer.  “I believe that was a verbal slap, seeing as how he can’t hit you physically.”

“What?  Because I burst his happy little homicidal bubble?”  Van sneered and crossed his arms over his chest, looking almost pleased with himself given the circumstances.  “Good.  I mean really, how does he keep finding these damn things?”  Gaddes suddenly had enough.  The stress of the last few days was weighing too heavily on him and now the ominous threat of another great war focussed on two of the people he was closest too was simply too much.  His normally calm grey eyes burned with anger which was aimed directly at Van.   

“Can you get your head out of your ass for one minute Van?”  He all but spat out, earning surprised gasps from both the young king and Palos.  “He was sharing something important to him with us.  Trusting us; and you just spat on it.  This is a kid who has been through hell that we can’t even imagine all his damn life and he’s trying to find something, anything to make him forget for a few minutes how badly he wants to die.  Thanks for reminding him of what he’s lost.”

“He brought up Folken!”

“Folken did design the damn things.”  Gaddes shot back.  “He told us that himself when he defected.”

“He used this machine to slaughter dozens of people at the Rampant Massacre!”

“Yes he did.  We were at war remember?  He’s a soldier Van, that’s what he does during wars.”  Van took a slight step back, shocked by the vehemence in Gaddes’ voice but the crewman wasn’t about to give him any reprieve.  “Do you want to know why he was so excited about getting it back?”  Gaddes leaned forward, glaring at the dark teenager angrily, wishing he could get away with grabbing the king and giving him a few good shakes.

“He’s terrified of losing the Crusade crew, of seeing us die just like his Dragonslayers did.  He’s been obsessed with fixing that damn Aldeides so that he can protect us against Basram and the Sorcerers.  When he found the Oreades, do you know what he said?  He said that with this and with Escaflowne, the two of you could stop them.  He never mentioned fighting you or taking revenge against you.  He talked about working with you to protect the people you both care about.”  The crewman took no pleasure from the look of utter guilt that filled the king’s face, he was far too furious with him to care.

“I never thought I’d see the day when he was the sensible one out of the two of you.”  With that, Gaddes turned away from the king before he said anything that might totally condemn their chances of working together and headed out to find Dilandau, hoping that he hadn’t found any ways of venting that were too destructive.

In his wake, Van, Palos and Alberto all stared at the empty doorway, all three of them too stunned to even think of following the duo.

“H….How am I the bad guy here?”  Van finally asked, his voice sounding as dazed as he felt.  “Am I the only one not forgetting that he’s a war criminal?”

“I don’t think he’s forgetting.”  Palos murmured softly, sheathing his sword carefully, all too aware that his hands were still shaking.  The messenger couldn’t quite keep from casting several nervous glances towards the hulking death machine looming over them, ready to spit out fire and death at any moment.  It didn’t matter that the monster at its heart had left; the thing was still insanely dangerous.  “He’s just got other priorities.”

“Ugh, this is so frustrating!  Everyone keeps acting like I should just forget that for the better part of a year, that psychopath was there every step of the way trying to murder me and anyone around me.”  Van huffed loudly, giving the guymelef a dark glare.  At least it wasn’t his crimson Alseides, there were far worse memories attached to that damn machine than this one.  It had claimed far fewer lives than its predecessor, but he couldn’t quite let go of the slight shudder at the sight of it. 

In Fanelia, it was believed that an item which had claimed the lives of others eventually became cursed by the blood it had shed.  The crimson Alseides had claimed hundreds of lives in the brief time that Van had fought against it and he had no idea how many had fallen to it before then.  This machine had only fought in the one battle that he was aware of… still, there was something ominous about it.  It set his teeth on edge with its sheer wrongness and he knew that he didn’t want to be anywhere near it. 

Some dark part of him found it more than a little ironic that here he was, the last Draconian on Gaea, the final scion of a cursed race, and he was fretting over possible evil spirits in a hunk of metal.  Still, he couldn’t completely discount his intuition.  Hitomi had shown him that like herself, he possessed a certain heightened awareness of the energies around him, enabling him to see through Stealth Mantles, speak across worlds and even summon his own pillars of light.  It wasn’t overly farfetched to imagine that someone who had spent their life at the mercies of the Zaibach sorcerers might be able to imbue some of his own madness into his killing machines.

“I really don’t like that thing.”  Palos muttered softly, his hand resting uneasily on the pommel of his sword.  Van found himself nodding his head slightly in agreement.  Neither of them moved any closer to the crimson monster.  Alberto simply stared at it, looking utterly bemused over what had just happened.  No doubt the man was even more lost than they were and struggling to figure out how he was supposed to keep control over the wild Zaibach captain.

“At least he never got to burn any capital cities in that beast.”  The Fanelian king muttered more to himself than anyone else though he noticed Palos wince at his words.  Dammit, Gaddes was right, and so was Allen.  His hatred of Dilandau’s past actions was colouring everything he saw now.  Worse, he was making the others doubt the other teenager.  This was no way to work together and while he didn’t truly trust Dilandau or his motives, he did trust Hitomi.  She’d said that they weren’t in conflict with each other, so he’d have to accept it… no matter how much he didn’t want to.  It seemed to fly in the face of all common sense.  The guy was a cold blooded killer, worse, he loved killing and felt no guilt over the many deaths he’d caused. 

Van on the other hand was haunted by the lives he’d taken… rather literally in one case.

“I swear that thing is looking at me.”  Palos murmured softly, edging closer to Van, his eyes never leaving the resting guymelef.  “It… it can’t move without him in it right?”  It was one of the stupidest things Van had ever heard in his life, but then again, his armor was fully capable of moving without him being in it, so he couldn’t exactly scoff at the messengers fear, no matter how unfounded.

“No, it’s just a hunk of metal without Dilandau inside of it.”

“Right… right… it’s just the shell, he’s the beast.”  The messenger murmured absently.  Confused, Van gave him an odd look, convinced that he hadn’t heard him right.  Clearly it had been a long day and it was only just after breakfast.  He couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the day brought them.

“Let’s go.  I’m sure Gaddes could use our help in keeping him from doing anything too crazy.”  The king began walking towards the door as he spoke, gesturing vaguely for Palos to follow.  Alberto was still staring at the guymelef and likely composing his resume.

“The kid camps out for the night and comes back with a war machine… I think he’s raised the bar on craziness to a whole new level.”   Palos managed a weak smile as he followed Van, giving the guymelef a last nervous look before heading out into the bright warm sun.  He couldn’t quite shake the feeling of fire threatening to lick at his back and his hand clutched the cool purple stone in his pocket tightly.

There was thankfully no sign of the two missing members of their group on the lawn and seeing as how they hadn’t eaten yet, chances were good that they’d both headed into the house to scrounge up some breakfast.  At least that was Van’s logic as he began to head towards the manor at a brisk pace.

“There’s a carriage coming.”  Palos murmured softly, glancing over at Van nervously then at the still open door of the shed.  “Should we maybe… er… close that?”  The king listened for a moment, hearing nothing out of the ordinary, but figured that the messenger would be more attuned to sounds on the road than he would be.  Also, it would be a rather stupid way to end this escapade, letting any of the staff just waltz in and see the loathsome machine.

“Yeah… help me with the door?  Alberto, are you coming out?”  He called into the shed and was rewarded by the servant slipping out silently.  The man still looked more than a little shell-shocked by the experience but Van couldn’t exactly waste time trying to sooth his troubled mind.  It would be a wholly wasted effort anyway because there were no doubt half a dozen more horrible surprises that the zaibach youth had in store for them.  He’d cope, go mad, or follow Folken’s example of just burying it all down deep and start wearing eyeliner.

It took the three of them panting and straining against the door to get it to close.  Once it was locked up tightly, Van could finally hear the sound of approaching hooves and the crunch of wheels against the fine stones of the road.

“No… nonono.  This isn’t good…”  Palos murmured as the large silver and blue carriage came into sight, heading towards the manor.  Four beautiful white horses in matching barding pulled it effortlessly along and the coachman was dressed in white and blue while the unmistakable flags of Astoria flew proudly on each corner of the carriage.  “That’s the Royal Carriage!  It’s the king!”  And with that, the messenger went into full panic mode, tugging at his clothes in a desperate effort to straighten them out and slapping away invisible dust.  Not even Alberto was immune.  He stood a little straighter and ran a hand through his thin hair as he strode boldly towards the approaching royal.

Van, unlike the others took a moment to notice that six Knight Caeli rode abreast of the carriage, their uniforms pristine despite the ride and more importantly, their tack was in a battle conformation.   It sent some rather mixed signals to the Fanelian king.  They were prepared for a fight, but were obviously hoping for a peaceful solution, meaning that it was either Dryden or Millerna in the carriage rather than King Aston himself.

A thin smile tugged at the young king’s lips as he thought about the cowardly self centered ruler who had been all too willing to sell him to Zaibach and put his entire country into pawn in order to avoid conflict with the enemy forces.  No, he’d never put himself at risk if there was even the faintest hint of trouble.  Granted, he likely also wouldn’t allow his daughter to walk into a potentially volatile situation, so that left Dryden.  He could work with that.

Unlike his two companions, he strode confidently towards the carriage, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind which warned him that here he was, the king of another country just hanging out in their capital without so much as a “by your leave”.  No doubt King Aston was going to make him pay for that in some petty way once this got back to him.  Granted, this was under some rather extenuating circumstances… most of them unfavourable.  Maybe this time the old windbag would listen when he brought him portents of war… yeah, because that went over so well last time.

“I swear that if I have to fight in another gladiatorial pit, Dilandau is going in my place.”  He muttered to himself as he reached the paved entrance road.  The knights reined their horses in; all of them stopping at precisely the same time, creating a rather impressive mirror image effect which the king had to admit was more than a little intimidating.  It was even more so when you took their grim cold faces into account.  Allen might be by far the youngest Knight Caeli, but he was also the warmest of the lot.

“Yo, Van!”  The cheery male voice called out from the carriage just as it rolled to a complete stop, proving that Van’s deductions had in fact been correct.  For a moment the weight of the world eased up from the young kings shoulders and he smiled at his old friend and held up a hand in a slight wave.  Finally, here was someone who hadn’t fallen into the Dilandau Fan club already and started acting contrary to their natures.  This was someone who remembered the war the way it had been, not with all of these new shades of grey that everyone was favouring.

“Dryden!  How are you?”  He tried not to chuckle as he heard both Palos and Alberto drop to their knees, each one of them making strangled sounds in the backs of their throats at the utter informality between the Fanelian King and the Astorian Heir.  Clearly they didn’t know Dryden if they thought for even a moment that he was going to stand on formality. 

The Astorian Heir Apparent opened the door of the carriage before the coachman could and hopped down to the ground with a grace that belied his tall stringy form.  As always, the man’s hair was tied back in a somewhat messy tail and held in place by an overly large ribbon.  The baggy overcoat looked sloppy as always though Van knew that it was insanely expensive and made from some strange natural fiber found in a country he couldn’t even begin to pronounce, as was the brightly coloured scarf he’d wrapped loosely around his neck despite the still warm weather.  The familiar sunglasses were balanced precariously on the bridge of his long aristocratic looking nose and nicely offset the wide goofy grin which threatened to split the man’s face in two.

Without further preamble, the heir walked over and gave the king a hearty slap on the back, making Van almost stagger from the friendly gesture.  This time he was positive he heard Palos squeak in shock.

“I’m doing good!  Reparations are going smoothly… well, as smoothly as one could expect though we’re still concerned about the harvest.  Too many fields were damaged in the fighting and from that damn bomb.  It’s going to take years to get anything to grow properly.  I’ve got one huge area of land near the center of the blast where the fruit glows from all the residual energy.  It glows!”  He sounded almost delighted by this strange event and Van had no doubt that he was already working on how marketable the glowing fruit might be.  Dryden was always, first and foremost a merchant, which Van supposed made him a perfect king for Astoria.

“How’s Fanelia doing?  I’d heard that things are tough there and the winter isn’t looking too good.  Is there anything more we can do to help?  I can see about sending some lumber shipments your way or opening up a quarry so everyone at least has decent shelter.  Food is going to be a little slim all around I’m afraid.  We’ve even made Zaibach hand over a good chunk of their winter stores.  Those guys might have all been crazy, but they knew how to prepare for the worst.” 

Van found himself frowning at that.  He’d heard about how long and brutal the winters were in the more northern country and could only imagine the hardships the people of Zaibach were going to endure.  Of course, if it hadn’t been for them, the rest of Gaea would have at least been comfortable. 

“There’s going to be a lot of raids this winter for food.”  The king cautioned.  The bandit problem was already bad but as soon as villages ran out of stores, they were going to get desperate, and there now was a country of highly trained warriors who were about to get very very hungry right when a war was breaking out.  If they weren’t careful, Zaibach could very well join Basram in a desperate bid to grab back some of what had been taken from them.

“Yeah, Allen had sent a report about an increase in bandit activity on our western border and I’d heard that you’d run into some problems as well.  Glad to see that the rumours were exaggerated.”  The look of concern on his friends face wasn’t faked at all and Van felt himself relax slightly.  “Clearly they didn’t know who they were dealing with.”

“No…no they knew exactly who they were dealing with.  I all but walked into the damn trap and was all but gift wrapped for them.”  Dammit, he really should have Gaddes here to explain everything.  “There’s a problem… a big problem and we should really go inside and talk… or better yet, go to the palace and talk.  King Aston is going to need to hear this.”

Dryden’s smile faded marginally though the warmth didn’t leave his eyes as he shook his head.  Van did his best to pretend that he hadn’t noticed the way that several of the Knight Caeli’s hands tightened on the handles of their swords.

“I’m handling most Affairs of State for the king now.”  Dryden advised gently.  “King Aston is studying how I handle myself during these… difficult times.”  Meaning that the King likely had no clue how to fix the mess they’d all found themselves in and was letting Dryden take the blame if things didn’t turn out well.  He was throwing his heir to the proverbial wolves, but thankfully Dryden didn’t look overly worried.  Of course, he was pretty sure that Dryden would still look calm and relaxed even if he was on fire.

“How did you get away from the bandits?  I’ve heard that Escaflowne is still back in Fanelia.”  Damn his spies were good, as was his network.  Van had no idea how he’d gotten that information in the few days he’d been away from his country.   “We saw the Pillar of Light, is Hitomi back?” 

The question caught him off guard somewhat and he looked a little more carefully at Dryden, realizing that the Heir hadn’t moved towards the house or left his circle of guards.  The man might act like a vapid butterfly but he was no fool.  He knew damn well that Hitomi wasn’t here, the same way that he hadn’t asked to see Allen yet.

“No… no she’s not…”  Dammit, he was horrible at this sort of thing!  It was times like this that he really wished he’d spent more time around Folken when he’d had the chance.  Folken would have known how to handle Dryden.  He’d have had the Heir eating out of the palm of his hand and heading happily back to Palas by now.

“Alberto… could you get Gaddes for me?  He’ll be able to explain things.”  There was no hiding the somewhat desperate tone in his voice and he kicked himself when he saw the minute raising of Dryden’s eyebrows as the man smelled blood in the water.

“Of course King Fanel.”  The servant was gone with a speed which defied his age, something Van wished that he could do as well.  Instead, he dredged up a somewhat forced smile for his friend and tried not to look guilty as hell.

“Ah, Gaddes is here?  But I don’t see Crusade, and Allen isn’t here to meet me.  Is he still mad at me?”  Yeah, Dryden was playing with him now, batting him around like a cat with a mouse.  There was nothing overtly malicious in the game, but Dryden was a political creature and this was the very air he breathed.  With exaggerated drama, he raised a hand and tapped his chin thoughtfully, looking around the lawn then the manor, making Van very glad that they’d closed the doors of the Guymelef shed.

“Allen is… dealing with an increased bandit presence on the border, at least he was yesterday… he’s likely on his way back now.  Look Dryden, could we talk about this somewhere else?  Somewhere in private?”  Van gave the knights a wary look, already knowing that they weren’t about to let the Heir out of their presence, especially in the company of a foreign king who’d mysteriously appeared in their capital city without warning.  If they did, they didn’t deserve their titles.

“These men are sworn to uphold the safety of the crown above all else Van, you know better than that.”  The heir chided, dropping the playful demeanor though not the warmth in his voice.  Now however, there was concern shining in his pale green eyes.  “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“It’s a long story… and not a good one.”

“I imagine not, the interesting ones seldom are, and this one is already proving to be fascinating.”  Dryden sighed loudly and glanced around again.  “I suppose then I should speak to the Lady Celena Schezar.”  The words were spoken casually but Van felt the trap begin to close around him and for a moment, he hated Dryden for putting him in this situation.  Dammit, why couldn’t the pillar have taken them to Fanelia?  This would have been so much easier, of course, he supposed he should be grateful considering how much more likely it would have been that they’d have arrived in Zaibach considering who’d been controlling it.  It had likely only been Dilandau’s overriding terror of the Madoushi that had sent them here rather to his adopted country.

“Celena… isn’t accepting guests at the moment.  She was hurt in one of the raids and will only see Gaddes or Allen now.”  That seemed like a safe enough answer.  If the Heirs spy network was good enough to know about his kidnapping then he no doubt knew about the attack in that damn village in one form or another.

“Of course, perfectly understandable.  In that case, I’d like to speak to Dilandau.”  It was said so frankly that for a moment all Van could do was gape like an idiot as his mind struggled to catch up to what had been said.

“W…what?  How…”

“Allen has been quite… diligent in ensuring that no decent word reached Palas as to what happened regarding the bandit attack.  I’ve known the man for years and his reports are always tediously detailed.  His last few reports were vague at best and clearly attempts to draw attention away from what had happened regarding his sister.  I even sent a Royal Messenger to impress on him my growing concerns… In fact, I believe that is him cowering there on the ground.  Jeture man, you look like hell, what have you been doing to yourself?”  Dryden smiled at Palos and then turned his attention back to Van before the messenger could answer properly.  “I trust the Knights Caeli with my life and my country, but only one person could make Allen clam up like that.  Also, there’s the fact that you all arrived via Light Pillar yesterday morning and no one has seen fit to send someone to the Royal Palace?  If Celena was truly hurt, word would have reached us immediately.  Shall I go on or have I proven that I’m not an idiot?”

“Actually, that was pretty impressive.”  Van felt his stomach lurch at the familiar voice.  As one, the Knights Caeli all prepared to draw their weapons, though a negligent hand wave from Dryden stilled them instantly.  Slowly, Van forced himself to turn around and saw Dilandau leaning against the doorway as if he’d always been there.  His sword hung casually from his hip and his arms were crossed lazily over his chest, but the king knew that he was easily within range to attack the Heir should he choose.

Gaddes burst through the door a moment later, flashing Dilandau a murderous glare before bowing deeply to Dryden, looking more than a little flustered.

“Ah, you must be Dilandau Albatou.  I don’t believe we’ve actually met.”  Dryden smiled at the albino, looking perfectly relaxed as well though Van didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly judged the distance between them.

“Captain Dilandau Albatou.”  Dilandau corrected boldly before straightening up and to the shock of everyone, the teenager actually gave a perfectly polite bow to the Heir.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lord Dryden Fassa.  I’ve met your father but I’m pleased to see that you’re nothing like him.”

“No one’s more pleased than I am I assure you.”  Dryden replied with a slight chuckle.  “Though I must say that I see your father in your eyes, though thankfully, you take after the Lady Encia in appearance.”  That seemed to have knocked the albino off balance slightly.  Straightening up, he gave the Astorian a look of open curiosity rather than the expected hostility.

“You knew him?  Schezar never speaks about either of them really.”

“He wouldn’t.  He and your father had a falling out and I doubt Allen will ever truly forgive him.  As for your mother… It broke his heart when she died.  I personally am an avid follower of Leon Schezar and his studies.  In fact, I’d be happy to share some of them with you if you’d perhaps share some information with me.” 

Again, Van’s jaw hung open in shock at the strange amicability he was witnessing.  Why wasn’t Dilandau posturing and rattling his sword like an angry viper?  Why wasn’t Dryden taking him into custody?  The kid had burned down a good chunk of the capital city!

The two men sized each other up, interest shining in their eyes as they took the measure of the other.  It was Dilandau who broke the stare down first, smiling broadly and giving his head a sharp nod.

“I like you Fassa.  You’re interesting.”

“One might say the same regarding you.”

“They’d be wrong.  I’m fascinating.  There’s a difference.”  The heir found himself laughing lightly at the show of ego from the young soldier, finding it intriguing how calm and self-assured the teenager seemed to be considering how dire his situation was.  “Come inside and have a glass of vino, I’m sure Schezar has a decent vintage or two I haven’t drunk yet.”  With that, the zaibach captain turned his back on the heir and walked into the house without a care in the world.

Dryden moved to enter but was beaten to the door by three of his knights who walked in first, ensuring that the Demon of Zaibach wasn’t planning to skewer him the instant he walked through the door.  Favouring them with an amused grin, Dryden glanced over at Van.

“I’m looking forward to hearing how the two of you are managing to get along.”

“No your Majesty, you’re really not.”  Gaddes murmured softly, rubbing his temples in an attempt to stave off the growing headache forming there.

They entered the parlour to find Dilandau already making himself comfortable on the couch he’d chosen last night, leaving several comfortable chairs for the others to choose from.  One of the knights, a large burly fellow with a dirty blonde beard and slightly lighter hair reached out to grab onto the albino’s shoulder and haul him back to his feet.

“One doesn’t sit while the Heir stands.”  He growled loudly, only to find naked steel pressed neatly against his throat before he’d even finished speaking.  Still seated, Dilandau smiled up at the man pleasantly, his sword resting lightly against pale flesh.

“Let’s clear a few things up before we begin shall we?”  The sweetness of his smile did nothing to take away the bitter edge behind his words.  “I am not an Astorian citizen.  I’m an elite captain in the Zaibach army and I sit when I damn well want to sit.  Having never met Lord Fassa, I have nothing for or against him so am perfectly willing to be civil during this meeting, however should you attempt to touch me again, I will slit your throat open and bathe in your blood.  Do I make myself clear?”  For a moment, the only sound was Gaddes slapping the palm of his hand against his face.

“You are exactly as I expected Captain Albatou.”  Dryden laughed, sounding perfectly amused by the unfolding events.  “Defiant despite the odds.”  The blade remained pressed against the knight’s throat until the man took a step back and lowered his hands.  Dilandau watched him for another moment before sheathing his weapon with its usual silence.

“From where I’m sitting, the odds are still in my favour.”  The young captain replied confidently.  “But as I said, I have no quarrel with you.  The war’s over after all.  In fact, I’m here to help you”

“This help won’t result in the burning of a good chunk of the city will it?  We’re still recovering from the last time Zaibach offered their aid.”

“That depends, are you hiding anymore destiny altering guymelefs from me?”  Everyone in the room stiffened except for Dryden and Dilandau, the two of them seemed to be enjoying their little verbal dance.

“Not this time as far as I know, planning any surprise wars that I’m not aware of?”

“Yes as a matter of fact, I am.”  At first, Dryden thought that he was simply continuing the game and chuckled in amusement, then he noticed the perfectly serious look in the albino’s eyes and glanced around somewhat nervously towards Van and Gaddes, hoping to hear them refute his words.

“Oh… oh dear.”  The heir murmured and sat himself down on the nearest chair.  “I do believe that I will have that wine now.”  Thankfully, Alberto was on hand to serve, giving everyone a rather generous portion save for the knights who continued to watch their former enemy with open suspicion.

Dryden drained a good portion of his glass in a single long sip before holding his glass out for a refill, earning a slight smirk from Dilandau.  Gaddes sat himself down next to the pale youth, flashing him a warning glare and inwardly praying that he was finished being a pain in the ass in regards to the royals.  He doubted it, but there was no harm in dreaming right?

“How about you start at the beginning?”  Dryden said after a long heavy moment of silence.  The Heir then leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms and his fingers laced together under his chin.  The position didn’t look at all comfortable, but he seemed happy enough.

“A little over two weeks ago, we were in one of the border villages as planned.”  Gaddes began, wondering how many more times he was going to have to relate this horrible tale.  “Everything was quiet and there’d been no reports of violence or predation from bandits.  Then, one night, there was an attack.  They were after Celena.  She tried to escape but they caught her… they… they hurt her badly and by the time we got there, she was gone and Dilandau was in her place.”  Green eyes flickered in Dilandau’s direction, gauging his reaction to the words, noting that he didn’t appear to be anything more than slightly bored.

“I’d thought the Fate Alteration experiments were over.  Celena was supposed to be stable.”  At the Heir’s question, Dilandau snorted inelegantly and took a deep sip of his wine before grinning widely.

“Well apparently seeing as how I’ve had the damn body for twice as long as she had, the Fates figured that I was the better pilot.  Honestly Gaddes, you would make a simple story into an epic.”  Dilandau took another deep sip of his wine before putting the glass down and standing up, smirking slightly as the nearest knight stiffened in response to the abrupt movement.

“I’m in charge now, which is likely a good thing seeing as how things are falling apart faster than a whore’s skirts.  How much did Folken tell you about the experiments I was involved with?”

Dryden frowned slightly, not thrilled with the interruption of the no doubt complex story.  Still, he held his silence, interested in the young captain’s straightforward approach as well as the no doubt rather in-depth knowledge he would have on the Zaibach Empire’s inner workings.

“I know that you are Celena Schezar… or were.  That Zaibach kidnapped you and performed fate alteration experiments on you to turn you into the young man I see before me now.  You were trained to kill and then unleashed on Escaflowne.  When your Dragonslayers were killed, you became mentally unstable and reverted to the Celena identity at least once before finally shifting into her permanently during the final battle.  Celena of course had no memory of your crimes of that any time had passed since her abduction.”

“The experiments history, not mine.”  Dilandau grumbled sourly.  “I need more wine if I’m going to make it through this.”  He motioned for Alberto to refill his glass and downed it in a single gulp, not looking at all relaxed.

“Folken said that he had very little knowledge of the experiments you were involved in.  Only that they were using abducted children and twisting them with fate magic.”  Dryden clarified, his previously amusing demeanor was gone and in its place was a look of rapt attention as the man’s keen analytical mind weighed every word the albino spoke.

“I…”  Dilandau took another breath, then another drink as he tried to speak.  Gaddes wasn’t the only one to notice his trembling hand.  The instant Dilandau realized this sign of weakness; he quickly put the glass down in disgust.  “I don’t remember much of the experiments.  They made it common practice to wipe my memories of anything I’d seen and done.   What I do remember is that there were originally several of us, all prototypes and they called us Fate Alteration Soldiers.  We were supposed to change the face of war on Gaea, render all other soldiers obsolete on the battlefield.  For years, they shaped us through experiments and tests, weeding out the weak, the flawed… anyone who couldn’t handle the strain of the torture.”

Gaddes noticed how pale Dilandau was growing as he spoke, saw the worsening tremors in his body and reached out a hand to gently touch his lover but Dilandau jerked away as if burned and cast a scathing glare in his direction.  The crewman saw the faintest flicker of energist red glowing in the depths of his eyes, but it faded almost instantly, leaving only smoldering crimson in its wake.

“You’ve seen me on the battlefield and you know how lethal I am.”  Again Dryden nodded cautiously, not sure he liked where this was heading.  “There’s a reason behind the attempted abductions of Van and myself.”

“I spoke to Hitomi last night.”  Van cut in, noticing the amount of distress Dilandau was in and not wanting to have the violent warrior lose his tenuous self-control while in the same room as the heir of Astoria.  Rather than be irritated at the interruption, Dilandau actually shot him a somewhat grateful look before grabbing his refilled glass and taking a long drink.

All eyes turned to the Fanelian king and he drew himself up to his full if somewhat less than impressive height.

“When Zaibach was defeated and the sorcerers handed over, it seems that they missed several key members.  One in particular, the one who headed Dilandau’s experiment avoided justice and joined with a Basram general.  The two of them are working on recreating the Fate Alteration Soldier project and by the sounds of it, it’s rather far along.  For some reason, likely not a good one, they need both Dilandau and I to complete the experiment.  Each time, it’s only been pure chance that we’ve escaped.  Now they know that we’ve teamed up against them and I don’t think we’ll be able to pull another surprise out of thin air.”

“The pillar of light?”  Dryden asked and both Van and Dilandau nodded their heads.

“Dilandau managed to summon it and thankfully it took us here rather than… other places.”  Van noticed Gaddes pale slightly as the crewman likely just realized how close they’d all come to appearing on Zaibach’s doorstep.  “I’m not exactly sure how he managed it, but I could feel something reach for the power of Hitomi’s amulet, then form a chain between it, myself and Escaflowne.  The combined power was enough to summon it and pull us here.”

“I see…”  Dryden tapped his chin thoughtfully before looking at the two teenagers with those too clever eyes of his.  “And last time, at Rampant Port, what happened then?”

“I… I don’t remember… Everything at the end of that fight is confusing and the next thing I knew, I was waking up dressed like some Astorian ponce and sitting in a graveyard with Schezar and Princess Eris.”  Dilandau glanced down at the clothes he was currently wearing and his lip curled in obvious distaste.  “I hate it when history repeats itself.”

“It was similar.”  Van supplied, rolling his eyes slightly at his nemesis griping about his clothing, though the king did have to admit, he hadn’t enjoyed having to wear the overly elaborate clothing either.  “Escaflowne’s energist started to fluctuate in power and I could feel… something pulling at me.  I could hear Dilandau screaming out something, but I wasn’t really paying attention.  All I could think about was killing him.  There was this burst of power, like a huge bubble popping or a lightning bolt striking and then he was gone in a flash of light.  My energist acted normal after that.”

“And is this something that has happened before Captain Albatou?  Or simply those two times with Van?”  For a moment, Dilandau looked almost defensive as he glared at the heir.  It didn’t last for long and he sighed softly and shook his head, taking another sip of his wine.

“Only those two times that I remember, but the Madoushi might have messed with my head.  There’s still a lot of holes in my memory.”

“And now Basram is making more warriors like you?  Did Hitomi believe that they were going to succeed?”  This time it was Van’s turn to nod reluctantly and sip at his own wine, wishing that it could somehow drive away that sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Seven… she said that there would be seven golden guymelef’s, each one piloted by someone like Dilandau.  No… sorry, she said Of Dilandau, made from him in some way I suppose, and she said that with every step they took, she could hear me screaming.  That bloody feathers surrounded them.”

Dryden’s face paled noticeably at this and he looked again at the two teenagers, realizing just how dangerous this was going to become.

“Fate altered Draconians?”

“Oh wouldn’t that be fun.”  Dilandau drawled in almost dreamy delight.  “Dibs on their wings.  I want to drape them across my guymelef.  They’d look beautiful, all bloody and broken.”  Van winced at the mental image that created and Dryden swallowed somewhat nervously, beginning to realize that it wasn’t just the boy’s violent attitude that had earned him his fearful reputation.   Yet here he was, having a … somewhat civil conversation with the most wanted criminal on Gaea. 

“Allen was hoping that we would be able to look at the files Zaibach handed over on the Madoushi experiments.  Something in them might have information we can use, especially if they’re recreating the same experiments as before.”  Gaddes interjected, giving Dilandau a little jab to remind him that it wasn’t nice to be psychotic in front of the guests.  “He said that you’d already had people going through them, but could there be some that were missed or overlooked?”

Dryden tapped his chin and thought for a long moment, more than a little concerned about the possibility of seven Dilandau’s running around, especially teamed up with a country like Basram.  Zaibach had been bad enough, but even they hadn’t engaged in wholesale slaughter the way that Basram had with their energist bomb.  Sure, King Enon had assured everyone that they’d only been in possession of the single device which had been detonated, but only a fool would believe that.

This also wove in well with the reports he’d received of the country stockpiling food and weapons.  Pilfering the battle sites for guymelefs which only needed modest repair as well as welcoming disaffected warriors from other armies to join their own without fear of reprisal.  Their ambassador had assured them that it was simply a step in ensuring that the defectors didn’t become bandits and pillage the already weakened countries.  Individually, nothing stood out as overly worrisome, but put together, it could easily be an attempt to raise another army while the rest of Gaea struggled to recover from the last war.

“There were thousands of military files handed over and the ones from the Madoushi are all in that damn shorthand code they use.  As if trying to read Zaibachi wasn’t hard enough, now we have to try to sort out this new jargon.  Translators are few and far between and we don’t have any for the Madoushi files.”

“I can read them.”  Dilandau spoke up, his eyes bright with challenge.  “I grew up in their damn labs, I can read their shorthand as easily as I can read Zaibachi.”

“They taught you how to read their secret language?  I thought you were a lab rat, not a pet.”  Van couldn’t help but sneer at the bold claim.  It felt good to see the albino wince slightly at the barb, but the look he received was smoldering with defiance.

“I know a lot of things I shouldn’t Van.  It was called survival.  Besides, the codes are simple enough to break once you know the proper ciphers and working it out gave me something for my brain to do when they were cutting me open on the table.”  The two teenagers glared at each other both spoiling for a fight until Gaddes stepped between them with a familiarity borne of long practice.

“Great, so we have a translator.  I don’t suppose we can get access to those files?”  The crewman gave Dryden his best smile, only to feel it falter as the man sighed softly and pushed his sunglasses up on his face.

“It’s not quite that simple.  Captain Albatou still has a rather large price on his head.  One which King Aston would be all too happy to claim.  Not to mention the hundreds of people who lost loved ones in the burning of Palas… as well as many other locations.” 

This time even Van stared at Dryden in shock and outrage at the proclamation. 

“How?  We just told you that there’s another war about to erupt and we need him to win it!  Hitomi said so!”  It was galling to be speaking up for his enemy, but this didn’t make any sense.  It was as bad as when they’d forced him to fight mercenaries for their amusement rather than take his warnings about Zaibach seriously.  What the hell was wrong with Astorians?

“I understand that Van, and personally I agree with you all, but King Aston is going to simply see a way to remove a rather old and uncomfortable thorn from his side.  With the capture of Captain Albatou, he’ll be remembered well as a king and his place in history would be secure.”  Dryden cast a surreptitious eye at the surrounding Knights Caeli, fully aware that they would be reporting this conversation to Aston the instant he returned.  If he failed to have Dilandau in chains when he did so, Allen would be branded a traitor, Van, Dilandau and Gaddes would be hunted down like rabid dogs and Dryden himself would find himself in a most uncomfortable position.

Unconcerned, Dilandau simply grinned widely and drew his sword, placing the fireplace at his back.  With one hand, he reached out to grab onto Gaddes’ arm and pull him back so that he was behind the youth’s weapon.

“No hard feelings then Fassa?  I like you and you’ve been honest with us so far, so you can leave with your head still attached to your neck, but I’m afraid that I’m going to have to kill some of your knights.  Hope you weren’t attached to them.”  Eagerness for battle shone in those crimson eyes as he waited to see which one of the men surrounding him would be the first to die.

“What the?”  Gaddes sputtered, unsure of how things had fallen apart so quickly.  “You were poisoned yesterday you moron, you’re not getting into a fight with Knights Caeli!”

“Well I’m not about to be dragged through Palas in chains either.”  Dilandau shot back, not taking his eyes off of the knights as he argued with his lover.  “Just stay behind me and don’t get stabbed.”

Oh of all the moronic things the brat had done over the course of the last twenty four hours, this was by far the worst, and that was a pretty damn spectacular list from Gaddes’ perspective.  Didn’t the psychotic idiot know how to settle any problem without his sword or guymelef?  Who was he kidding?  Of course he didn’t?  This is why the brat needed him, to keep him from doing stupid things like attacking the heir to the damn throne of Astoria while in Palas of all places!

“What means more to King Aston?”  Gaddes blurted out, staring at Dryden with as much intensity as he could muster.  That caught the Heir’s attention and he favoured the crewman with a grateful smile and the faintest of nods, pleased that one of the group had spoken up before blood had been drawn.  “Dilandau’s head on a platter?  Or ensuring that Astoria is the strongest country on Gaea?  We know this next war is happening, Hitomi said it’s too late to stop it, things are already in motion.  As it stands, Astoria, Fanelia, Freid, Daedalus, Zaibach, everywhere will be mowed down by Basram if they have their way.  Everyone simply lost too much in the war.  We lost nearly half our army and a good chunk of our Guymelefs are too damaged to fight right?”

“At ease men.  Let him speak.”  Dryden commanded, letting his interest show in his voice even as inwardly he sighed in relief.  He’d been moments away from making the same statement, but had known that the offer had to come from them for the full impact to be felt by the king.

Obediently the knights took a step back and lowered their swords though they refused to sheathe the blades.  In response, Dilandau shifted his stance slightly, moving from an overtly aggressive position to one which was somewhat more relaxed.  His blade was held at an angle, covering his midsection, the weapon steady in his hands, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.  Impressively, he didn’t attack, allowing the older man to speak in a rather surprising show of restraint.

Gaddes now found himself the focus of the entire room and he swallowed nervously, knowing that not only his lover’s life depended on his next words, but the lives of his friends as well.

“There are a lot of Zaibach guymelefs lying around, we’ve got a stockpile of them that the King wanted to use, but no one can operate the damn things right?  Well, this kid is the best pilot the Zaibach Empire ever managed to produce.  I’ve seen him in action, so’s Van and both of us can attest to his level of skill.”

“Go on.”  Dryden sent him as much wordless encouragement as he could, pleased to see that the crewman was more than just a handsome face.  As much as he enjoyed teasing Allen, he had to admit that the knight knew how to pick his companions well.  This crewman was far cleverer than he looked… or acted.  He’d have to be to get that firebrand of a captain to listen to him in such a volatile situation.

“So have Dilandau teach them how to pilot them.”  Gaddes continued, earning a somewhat skeptical glance from the albino, but no outright refusal.  That was a good sign.  “He’s already warned me that most people can’t make heads or tails of the controls, but those who can, he can teach.  He’s already been working with the Crusade crew, training us in some of Zaibach’s methods so that we can fight against the units who have defected to Basram.  So far we’ve run into several groups of them.  With him, you’d not only have those files translated, but you’d have access to a new army of guymelef with pilots able to use them properly and not get killed just powering them up.

“When Basram attacks, they’ll have guymelef, melef units as well as infantry.  We’ve already been warned about that, plus the seven Fate Soldiers.  Dilandau on his own tilted the war dangerously in Zaibach’s favour, imagine what seven of him could do?  So I ask again, what’s more valuable?  His head?  Or his brain?”

Silence reigned as everyone in the room waited on Dryden’s decision, fully aware that when he spoke, it would be with the full authority of the Crown behind him.  Through it all, Dilandau didn’t so much as twitch, he might as well have been a statue, poised, lethal and ready to burst into brutal action.  The knights on the other hand looked grim and determined to take him down should they be ordered to, though Gaddes noted more than one nervous glance in the direction of the Heir.

Everyone was so tense that when the applause sounded, not a single person was able to claim that they didn’t jump.  Dryden strode forward boldly past his knights until he stood in front of Dilandau, well within range of the albino’s sword should he choose to attack.  The knights if anything, looked almost apoplectic over this but before they could act to remove him from the obvious danger, he extended his hand towards the zaibach captain.

“I can promise a full pardon, though some form of restitution will be expected.  With that in mind, I believe it would be fair to declare that for your freedom, you will fight on the side of Astoria for the duration of this war, under the command of Sir Allen Schezar, Knight Caeli.  You will be accompanied at all times by a member of his crew or King Fanel and expected to obey the laws of this land while you are within our borders.

“In return for your life, you will instruct our soldiers in how to pilot Zaibach guymelef safely and train said pilots in air and land combat to the best of your abilities.  You will also translate the Madoushi files for our records, under the supervision of our scholars.  Once these tasks are complete, you will then receive a full pardon.  Break faith with us and you will be hunted down for the rest of your days by Astoria and our allies.  Do you agree?”

Dilandau stared at Dryden for a long moment, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he considered his options.  The idea of fighting under Astoria’s banner was loathsome but he could hardly return to Zaibach at this moment.  They’d kill him on sight or lock him away in some lab for the next generation of Madoushi to experiment with.  This solution allowed him to accomplish all of his goals of revenge as well as gain him the information he was seeking without any great sacrifice on his part.  The only problem was that he’d be working for the bastards who’d cost his beautiful soldiers their lives.

For a brief moment, he honestly considered telling the Heir to go fuck himself before running the grinning bastard through and fighting his way through the knights in a brilliant carnival of carnage.  Before he could open his mouth, he felt an icy chill flow through him.  Breathing in, he smelled the heart wrenching scent of crima metal, sword oil and lemons.   

Closing his eyes, he drew in another deep breath, drinking in the memories of his friends, allowing himself to feel their presence all around him, protecting him from death, fulfilling their vows to him even from beyond the grave.  The chill seemed to gather in his hands, gently forcing them down, lowering his guard.  It didn’t take a genius to understand the message.  His Dragonslayers were here right now, watching and they wanted him to take this path.  Pushy bastards, figuring that just because they were dead that they knew better than he did.  Still, he found himself smiling slightly at their sheer audacity.  If they’d been this bold in life, perhaps things might have ended differently for them all.

 _Only a fool fights a war on two fronts._  Gatti’s voice whispered in his ear softly.  _You’re no fool sir.  Use them, build them into your weapon and wield them against your enemies.  You lose nothing with this path._

Nodding slightly, Dilandau sheathed his sword in one smooth action then opened his eyes, staring deeply into Dryden’s dusty emerald gaze.

“Agreed, on two conditions.”

“Those being?”  Once again, the Heir looked more amused than offended at Dilandau’s boldness. 

“Once this war is over, my ties to this country are severed.  My path becomes my own.”

“By severed, are you including your ties to the Schezar bloodline?”

“That will remain to be seen.  I simply don’t want any more leashes around my neck.”

“Understood, and the second?”  Now Dilandau smiled slyly, never taking his eyes off of the man in front of him.

“I want to be considered an adult under Astorian law.  None of this bullshit about being Schezar’s ward.   My actions are my own and no one else’s responsibility.  I’ve been an adult in Zaibach since I was twelve and I’m not going to lose that level of autonomy now.”  Dryden gave him a bit of a confused look concerning that request and glanced over at Alberto who had made a strange sort of strangled squawking sound from the corner of the room.  Shrugging at the rather inoffensive request, the Heir nodded in assent.  If nothing else, it would take a load off of Allen’s shoulders seeing as how the young captain’s personality was going to be a magnet for trouble, almost as much as his pretty face.  He would rather that the somewhat errant Knight of Caeli not be pulled into another scandal, especially one not of his own making.

“Very well.”  For some reason, Dryden felt somewhat nervous over the look of triumph in those crimson eyes.  He had the distinct feeling that the boy had just put one over on him.  That wasn’t something that happened often.

“Oh, one other thing.”  Dilandau added with an innocent smile.  “I want a set of waterproof leathers for myself and Gaddes.  I trust you have a leatherworker who is familiar with the Zandalari style of proofing?  Schezar will pay if that’s required.”  This time Dryden couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the sheer cheek of the teenager.  He was definitely going to enjoy having the kid around, even if the Knights Caeli around him looked utterly furious with his decision.  He knew in his gut that this was the best option for all of them.

“Consider them a gift.”  He replied.  Only then did the albino take his hand, his slender fingers gripping with surprising strength as they shook on the agreement.  Dryden felt a faint chill pass through his hand and caught the faint scent of something metallic mixed with lemons.  It was the oddest thing, but he shrugged it off in light of his victory.

“Then let me be the first to welcome you to Astoria, Captain Dilandau Albatou-Schezar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta admit, I'm really liking writing Dryden and I hope I'm presenting him ok. I rather like that he acts goofy and laid back, but he's a pretty clever guy who enjoys being underestimated. He's also a big softie and is willing to give anyone a chance. Course, the question is, how badly will this deal with the devil bite everyone in the ass, and who exactly is the devil in this case?  
> I also loved poor Van trying to come to grips with the fact that he was the bad guy in a situation. Not everyone is perfect, and the dear little king did have a habit of speaking before thinking. That makes two of them now. It's fun drawing parallels between Van and Dilandau. Both having hot tempers, acting before thinking, trying to attack guymelef with swords... They could be best friends if they didn't hate each other so damn much.
> 
> Next chapter: Dilandau the diplomat? They're all doomed.


	23. Welcome to the Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang is summoned to court by the King... and that's the least of their problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, I've gotten distracted by starting up drawing again. On the plus side, if anyone wants to see artwork for Dragon in the Ashes, you can find pictures on tumblr and Deviantart under the name Nehasy. I just recently got a drawing tablet and have been learning how to use it.  
> As always, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the charactrs, not making any money. I am broke.

                “So… that’s it?”  Gaddes couldn’t help but ask as he looked around the room, taking special note of the less than happy looks on the faces of the gathered knights or the utterly scandalized look Alberto was giving him. 

“King Aston isn’t going to turn around and decide to execute him on a whim?”  He wanted to trust Dryden, he really did, but the king had flip flopped before in the face of his own self-interest and he wasn’t about to risk Dilandau for the man’s ego.

“He does have the power to do that yes.”  Dryden admitted adjusting his sunglasses slightly, fixing his gaze on Gaddes.  The crewman was surprised to see actual respect in the depths of his eyes, as if he’d impressed the man on some deep level.

“I’ll be honest with you; you won’t find a grand welcome at the palace.”  This he said to Dilandau.  “You have a lot of enemies there, powerful ones who hold some rather impressive grudges and have the influence to make them felt.  One of them happens to be the king.  That’s twice that you’ve made him look weak in front of his court.”

“The first time was his own fault, he insulted me.”  Dilandau cut in angrily, earning himself an indulgent chuckle form Dryden.

“Yes, I’d heard about that incident with the duel.  Was that all pre-planned between you and Strategos Folken?”  He received no reply other than a sly smirk from the albino and once again gave a soft chuckle.  “No matter, it was brilliantly handled by Zaibach either way.  The incident in the merchant quarter however… not so much.” 

Gaddes saw Dilandau’s eyes flash dangerously and quickly grabbed the youths arm to keep him from saying something along the lines of how much fun he’d had burning the city to ash and hearing the screams of the dying.  That simply wasn’t the sort of thing you openly revelled in, especially in this particular company. 

“Seeing as how I’m the one authorizing the pardon, I’m the one who will be held responsible should you decide to go on another rampage.  I’m putting a great deal of trust in you Captain Albatou, don’t make me regret it.”

“Of course not.”  Dilandau assured him with a confident smile that Gaddes personally didn’t trust for a moment and shot his lover a warning glare to behave.  “However, as you pointed out, I’m likely going to be dealing with rather regular attempts on my life.”  Unsurprisingly, he didn’t seem at all bothered by this, quite the opposite in fact and Gaddes inwardly dreaded at the way his eyes seemed to light up at the prospect of dealing with any unlucky assassins sent his way.

“Am I allowed to defend myself?”

“Assassins are to be taken alive unless there are no other options, and I am NOT including fire as an option Captain.”  Dryden replied firmly, proving that while he might have never met Dilandau in person, he’d certainly heard the stories.  “If the attempt is more indirect, please present your evidence to me and I will handle it.  You are in no way permitted to seek vengeance on your own.  We have courts and laws for a reason.  Vigilante actions will be considered a violation of our agreement.”

As expected, Dilandau didn’t look at all thrilled over this detail and Gaddes was willing to bet a colours worth of pay that the kid had never gone through the proper channels to deal with slights against him or his men.”

“Palos of House Varinth.”  The messenger stiffened and stood at attention.

“Your Majesty?”

“Seeing as how you’re already working with them and seem to not be attempting to avenge yourself on Captain Albatou, I will appoint you as his personal envoy.  You will relay any messages he has for me and provide information on expected etiquette and courtly laws he might need to be aware of.”

“Of course Your Majesty, it would be an honour.”  Palos bowed deeply, shocked that he’d just been handed not only a position of great distinction, but one which would enable him to stay close to the Demon of Zaibach and continue the task his benefactors had given him.  Granted, it wouldn’t make him popular in social circles, but he now had a direct line to the future king and that was worth the slight loss of face.

“Excellent, now then unless you have any other questions, I would suggest you grab what you need and we’ll head to the palace.”  Dryden grinned widely, clapping his hands together loudly and motioning towards his Knights to move out.  Van jumped at the sound, his eyes wide and his posture perhaps more than a tad unsettled.  Gaddes favoured him with a somewhat curious look.  It was unusual for the Fanelian king to be so subdued in a conversation, especially one concerning his nemesis.  He hadn’t said a word since Dilandau had drawn steel and even now was staring at the albino with dread and no small amount of horror in his eyes.

“Will we be confined to the palace or are we able to return here if we choose?”  Dilandau asked, his thumb idly toying with the butt of his sword.  He was loathe to leave his lovely Oreades alone in the Schezar shed but knew that this wasn’t the time to hit the Astorians with that little revelation.  He’d much rather save it for in case things went sour with the King.  Then he’d have a rather lovely surprise for them all. 

That fat sack of lard calling himself a king wasn’t the only one capable of holding a grudge after all, and Dilandau hadn’t forgotten for a moment the slights against him during their first meeting or the fact that the moron had tried to hide Van from him during the war.  Dryden might look like a fool, but he was a clever man, one the young captain could grudgingly respect.  If nothing else, the man had balls.  Not many people would dare walk up to him when his sword was drawn.  The knights surrounding him on the other hand, they were beneath his notice.  If they were the best that Astoria had to offer, pickings were going to be slim for new pilots.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with him being at the palace.”  Gaddes hazarded, not wanting to argue with his future king, but all too aware of how dangerous the situation was about to get for them all.  “Everyone there will want him dead.  It won’t be safe for him at all.”

“I can take care of myself Fanelian.”  Was the expected grumble, earning an amused look form Dryden.

“You’re Fanelian now?”  Damn the man, he was thinking that this was hilarious, no wonder he drove the Boss batshit.

“No, the brat’s just being a pain in my ass.”  Judging by the smirk he was getting, Gaddes knew that the nickname was going to stick… and likely spread.  He wasn’t sure who was going to be more annoyed over this, himself, of Van.  All jokes aside, he was honestly worried about what was going to happen the instant they set foot in the city.  Dilandau might be a phenomenal fighter, but not even he could defend against an entire city of enemies.  All it would take was one lucky shot, one moment when his guard was dropped to lead to his death.  Suddenly, Gaddes wanted to go anywhere but to the palace.  War or no war, it just wasn’t worth the risk.

Dilandau seemed to have noticed his look because his devil may care grin faded to a much more sober look and he gave the older man a gentle smile.

“It will be fine.”  He replied in a low voice, refusing to show even a hint of nervous apprehension.  “Besides, it’s something we need to do if we want to see those files.”  That was pretty much what it all came down to.  The king had something they needed if they wanted to win this war and King Aston wasn’t going to just let them access them out of the goodness of his heart.  Not even Van, the damn hero of the Destiny war would have been given open access to such sensitive documents, not without a price. 

“Anything truly worth doing comes with associated risks, the more important the goal, the greater the risks.  I’m willing to do it.  Are you?”  Dilandau watched Gaddes, challenge lighting up his eyes as the crewman took a deep breath, struggling to center himself.  He knew that nothing he said would dissuade the teenager now that he’d set his mind on an action.  All he could do was go along with it and hope to minimize the damage to them all.

 

                Damned manipulative psychotic brat.  Gaddes glared out the window of the carriage as they travelled through the city streets, noticing that they skirted the still damaged merchant district as they headed towards the palace.  The Royal Carriage, flanked by its six Knights Caeli drew brilliant smiles from the populace who all moved out of the way to let them pass.  Several even cheered and children waved, their eyes bright with delight.  He couldn’t help but imagine how quickly their faces would fall if they’d known who was riding within.

                Dilandau sat in the center seat, looking thoroughly unimpressed over the fact that his sword and several knives had been removed from his person prior to being allowed inside with the heir and Fanelian King.  His fingers toyed with the hem of his sash, twisting it over and over again before Gaddes finally had enough and took the youths hand in his, earning himself a sharp glare as the limb was snatched away.

                “I still don’t see why they had to take my weapons.”  He grumbled for what had to be the sixth time.  “It’s not like I couldn’t kill you with my bare hands if I wanted to.”

                “One doesn’t enter into the Kings presence armed.”  Palos stated, it was his fourth time repeating this and Gaddes could detect the faintest hint of frustration colouring his voice.  “It’s improper.  Once he’s acknowledged you as a member of his court, you will be permitted a knife, but your sword will not be permitted when he is present.”

                “It’s a stupid rule.  I’m always armed around Van.”

                “You’re also always trying to murder Van.  I trust you can see the problem.”  Gaddes had to swallow a snicker at the messenger’s tart reply.  It seemed that continuous exposure to Dilandau was finally desensitizing the man to the unnerving aura which surrounded the albino warrior.

                “I haven’t tried to murder him lately, that should count for something.”  The teenager huffed.  “Besides, Van gets to keep his sword.”

                “King Fanel is a war hero as well as a king.  It would be an insult to make such a demand.”

                “I could declare myself the Emperor of Zaibach, would that help?”

                “Zaibach has a new Emperor, you’re not it.”  That seemed to catch Dilandau’s attention.  The air of casual playfulness vanished instantly as he fixed the full intensity of his glare on the suddenly nervous looking messenger.  Everyone else in the carriage sat back in silence, watching the show.  As much as Gaddes wanted to step in, he knew that Palos was going to have to learn to deal with the brat on his own if he was going to be working closely with them.  Granted, he wondered how well the arrangement would work out if the man knew that Dilandau had been the one to poison him.

                “Who would dare claim Emperor Dornkirks title?”  There was an audible growl to the teenager’s voice and Palos couldn’t quite keep from cringing as he felt those crimson eyes burning through his skin and scouring his soul.  Suddenly working closely with this monster didn’t seem nearly as advantageous as he’d previously thought.

                “Emperor Manuel Vashinel the Third was appointed by the Allied forces in the wake of the war.”  Somehow Palos managed to keep his voice steady, though the vicious sneer on Dilandau’s face made his stomach quiver alarmingly.  The contempt was palpable and he found himself more than a little relieved that the monster was unarmed.  Granted, the way he was tightening and twisting that sash made him easily envision heads being twisted off…

                “That stupid cow?”  Dilandau snarled softly.  “He’s nothing but a spoiled dilettante who’s never served an honest day in the military.  He couldn’t lead a starving dog down a straight path while holding a steak let alone a country like Zaibach!  Even Folken couldn’t stand dealing with that idiot and his stupid demands.  General Adelphos should have been the next in line!”

                “He was elected to be instated as Emperor precisely because of those very traits.”  Van finally spoke up, his voice soft and almost apologetic sounding.  “The Allied council wanted to ensure that there wouldn’t be another attempt at rebuilding the war effort within Zaibach so it was decided that it should follow the model of its neighbours and be ruled by the aristocracy rather than the military.”

                “They’re one and the same in Zaibach!”  Dilandau hissed angrily.  “You earn your rank, you’re not born to it simply because someone of note shat you out.”

                “Oh please, the military was rife with nepotism just like every other country.”  Van rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the dragonslayers crudity, fully aware that he was just indulging in empty venting.  “The military was formally disbanded, those officers of high rank who had served were given the option of a lesser noble title or incarceration.  None are permitted to be in the line of royal succession without violating the terms of Zaibach’s surrender.”

                “So… you ripped out the soul of my country, cut off its balls and have left it with no way to protect itself.”  Raw fury saturated those crimson eyes and there was a hint of glow in their depths.  The temperature in the carriage actually dropped several degrees despite the cheery sunlight streaming in through the windows, causing the occupants to look around nervously.

                “You’ve sent us right back to how we were before He came to us.  Do you realize that?”  Van looked away, his own anger reflected in his eyes.  He’d wanted to vote against the vicious strictures being levelled against Zaibach and had argued passionately that while it would indeed weaken the hostile country, resentment would fester and grow.  These were a proud people who had learned that they were worth fighting for.  All they were doing was creating an even worse enemy than before when they should instead be fostering a sense of understanding.  They should be learning from Zaibach, encouraging them to share their vast technology rather than raping the country and reducing them to little more than a land of slaves.

                Of course, Fanelia had little voice on the Allied council.  They depended too heavily on the good will of their allies to dare to take a stand.  Van had had to choose between what was right, and what would keep his country alive through the winter.  His choice shamed him deeply, but he knew that he’d make it again if he had to.  Still, not even he was unmoved by the sheer devastation and rage burning in his enemies eyes.  He knew that it was look echoed in a thousand eyes all across Zaibach.

                “Prove the Allies wrong then Captain Albatou.”  Dryden spoke softly into the silence.  “Prove to them that Zaibach isn’t just waiting for another chance to burn the world to ash.  If someone with your reputation can act for the betterment of Gaea then perhaps it can prove that the rest of your country can be trusted as well.”

                “You really are a manipulative bastard aren’t you.”  There was murder in Dilandau’s eyes as he glared at Dryden and the heir quickly raised his hands in surrender, a smile pasted firmly on his face.

                “I warned you that King Aston can hold a grudge.  He’ll be watching you like a hawk, looking for any chance he can to tear you down as publically as possible.  Don’t give him that chance.  Prove to Astoria that you’re the hero Zaibach see’s you as.” 

                “Save that bullshit for my brother Dryden.”  Dilandau grumbled, leaning back in his seat.  “I’m not some hero out to change the world.  All I care about is finding my enemy and obliterating them.  Gaea can sort itself out or burn to ash for all I care.”  The heir was about to say something else, likely attempting to appeal to Dilandau’s better nature but Gaddes made a slight motion with his hand, warning Dryden that it would only be a wasted effort.  While he didn’t believe that Dilandau didn’t care at all about the fate of Zaibach, he knew that there was no way he’d admit to such feelings in this company.

 

 

                It wasn’t often that Gaddes had had the chance to enter the Royal Palace.  Even during the height of the war, the Crusade crew spent most of their time around the docks, ready to move at a moment’s notice.  Occasionally he’d been allowed to accompany the Boss when messages needed to be run to the crew, but they were few and far between.  Also, what with the war and the desperation of knowing that they were slowly being overwhelmed by Zaibach’s superior forces, he hadn’t had a chance to truly appreciate just how awe inspiring it all could be.

                Behind towering walls and several moats was the castle.  It was snugly nestled in the center of the city, granting it a spectacular view of the ocean.  Acres of vast and elaborate gardens filled with brilliant flowers and fruit trees sprawled beyond the first series of walls and were divided by a network of canals filled with sparkling water.  Elegant bridges provided a way across the shinning barriers and everywhere he looked, the view was breathtaking.

                Exotic birds flew through the air, fresh fruit hung heavy on their branches and there was even a small herd of deer wandering lazily by, familiar enough with the carriage to pay it no note.  Looking out at all of this bounty, it was hard to believe that so many villages were struggling to figure out how to survive the coming winter.

                Judging by how silent Van was as he stared out his window, Gaddes had a feeling that he was thinking along those same lines.  From what he’d heard, only a single wing of the palace had been rebuilt, sparing the rest of their resources to feeding and housing the remaining populace.  It must be hard to see his allies living in such luxury while Van and his people bargained away their pride for scraps.

                The damage that the Palace had sustained in the final weeks of the war was almost non-existent.  The walls had been rebuilt and the temple to Jeture shone beautifully, surrounding by sparkling crystal clear water.  If you didn’t know where to look, you’d never even know that a good chuck of the east face of the temple and grounds had been all but obliterated.

                They approached the palace proper with its towering walls, pristine stonework and beautiful turrets.  It practically glistened in the sunlight, the blue and white flags of Astoria waving playfully in the breeze.  Here, the ground was cobblestone and open, allowing for the small army of melef’s and guymelefs to train out in the courtyards.  Several were practicing at this moment and Dilandau leaned towards the window, watching the mock battles with interest… quickly followed by disgust.

                “You astorians are too heavy handed in your guymelefs.”  He grumbled, dismissing the towering warriors in favour of watching the infantrymen train.  “Crima requires delicacy and subtlety if you want to manipulate it properly.”

                “Neither are words I’d ever associate with you.”  Van couldn’t help but add in, earning himself that rather familiar rude gesture from Dilandau.

                “Oh I’m sorry, which of us is the expert with Zaibach Guymelef?  The instant someone asks about how to pilot demon armour I’ll happily direct them to you.”

“Name one time you were ever subtle in your life!”

“I said the handwork had to be subtle you deaf moron, and I can be extremely subtle when I feel like it.”

“Proven by the raging fires and rivers of blood whenever you showed up on the battlefield.”

“Like you were any better! Everywhere you visited blew up!”

“Who’s fault was that!”   Yup, it was the perfect way to enter the Astorian Palace… with two bickering children.  They were both so intent on getting in the final insult that neither seemed to notice that the carriage had come to a complete stop until the coachman nervously opened the door, doing his best to stay out of reach of any possible attack.

“Kids, we’re home.  Behave before I’m forced to send you to separate corners of the castle.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but grumble, earning a chuckle from Dryden and two glares from the teenagers in question.  Rather than step in to help, the heir instead stood up and began to take off the long jacket he habitually wore.  The action was so unexpected that both youths broke off their argument to stare in surprise.  Even Gaddes was at a loss for words.

“Put this on please Captain Albatou.”  Dryden stated, holding out the coat.  “We don’t want anyone recognizing you until the King has formally pardoned you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”  Dilandau took the coat without issue, quickly donning it and pulling the loose hood over his head, letting it hide his face though the crimson of his eyes seemed to glimmer in the darkness.

“He will.”  The heir assured them smoothly, turning to step out of the carriage.  “And if by some strange fluke he doesn’t, go quietly with the guards.  I’ll work something out.”  Both Gaddes and Dilandau exchanged identical looks.  If worst came to worst, they’d fight and they both knew it.  Capture would only lead to execution and neither of them were willing to risk leaving the zaibach youth in a prison cell.

“You’ll follow me into the palace.  Don’t wander off and don’t speak loudly.  I don’t want anyone to recognize your voice.  I’ll speak to the King with King Fanel and explain the situation as well as our agreement.  Once he agrees to see you, you’ll be escorted into the room.  This will not be done in open court.”  Dryden advised, warning filling his voice and his eyes were for once deadly serious.  “The King despises surprises and this will be a rather large one.”  He took a deep breath and began walking into the palace, the knights flanking them on either side.  Dilandau walked next to him, followed by Gaddes and Van while Palos brought up the rear.

“No matter what, you will be polite and well mannered.  Don’t try to goad him, don’t be sarcastic and no threats.  I will remind you that he still has the power to veto any agreement we’ve made, though due to the fact that we have King Fanel as a witness to the agreement, he’ll need a decent excuse to do so.  Don’t give him one.”

“Understood.”  You’d have thought that Dilandau had been asked to overhaul every guymelef in the yard by how put upon he sounded, but at least he was agreeing.  “I get my weapons back after I speak to the king right?”

“If it goes well, possibly.  Do keep in mind that you did burn down a good chunk of the city and you did murder his son in law.”

“I didn’t murder Freid… I just sort of peeled him out of his armour like a bug.”

“Stop talking Dilandau.”  Gaddes interjected.  “Remember what I said about acting like a civilized human being?”

“No.  It was a boring conversation.”  Yeah, as soon as they were alone, he was going to bend the damn brat over his knee and spank the ever loving crap out of him… then likely run for his life.  At least Dilandau was smiling slightly as he goaded the crewman.  Still, the next hour was likely going to be one of the most important of their lives, and the idea of Dilandau’s fate balancing on his ability to be diplomatic was frankly more than a little terrifying.

They dutifully followed Dryden through the labyrinthine halls of the palace, Gaddes doing his best not to gawk at seeing how the nobility lived.  He’d always thought that Allen was overdoing it with the manor, but now he could see that the Schezar home was actually rather down to earth and humble in comparison.  Honestly, he was never going to call the Boss an effete prig again… possibly.

The room they eventually stopped in was a small (by Astorian palace standards) room with ornate tapestries on each wall as well as a rather large and imposing looking painting of King Aston in his younger and much trimmer years.  He glared down balefully at those waiting for their meeting, making it abundantly clear that they were imposing on the fierce monarch.  There were two large couches against the wall and a table between them with some fresh fruit and a pitcher of water.  No windows graced the walls but there were several lit torches which provided enough light to see by though they did make the room rather sweltering hot.

“Stay here until you’re summoned.  Help yourself to the water and fruit, if you need the bathroom its two doors down on your left.  There’s a guard at the door and he will escort you as necessary.”  The last was for Dilandau’s benefit and he huffed slightly as if denying that he might be so weak and human as to require such amenities.

They watched the king and heir slip out the rooms only door and then stood there in awkward silence for several long seconds before Dilandau began poking around at the tapestries, lifting up the corners and peering behind them.

“What in Jeture’s name are you doing?”  Gaddes asked as he sat down on the couch, pouring himself a glass of water and sipping it sparingly.  It was wonderfully cool and refreshing, but he knew better than to guzzle it.  “Sit down and at least pretend to behave for a few minutes.”

“You do realize that we’re in a box right?  The only exit is that door, which, should King Aston decide to not honour the agreement, will be filled with angry knights bearing rather pointy pieces of metal and I’m conveniently unarmed.”  Dilandau murmured, taking a moment to glance at the glass bowls bearing the fruit and water.  Well, almost disarmed.  While he wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that some shards of glass could defeat a room full of knights, he knew that he could take a few of them down with him.

“You really are an optimist aren’t you.”  Gaddes couldn’t help but grumble, earning himself a rather wide smile from his lover.

“Oh but I am.”  He replied brightly.  “Should things fall apart, I’m confident that I will handle them appropriately.  I also know that there’s a hole behind this tapestry so that someone can listen in on us as we talk and I’m confident that they’ll no doubt come up with a very imaginative story to tell the king.  Everything is exactly as I expected and I couldn’t be happier.  Optimism!”

“I’m getting you a dictionary for your birthday.  The word you’re using is _Crazy_ not _Optimism._  But hey, if it keeps you happy, you keep playing with the wall hangings.  Just don’t damage them, they’re worth more than the two of us put together.”

“I don’t’ know about that, Lord Fassa offered Folken fifty thousand gidaru for me my first time here.”  Gaddes sighed at those words and put down his water glass, feeling more than a little sick.

“That’s almost the cost of a high end leviship!”  He choked out, disgusted to even be discussing this.

“He was willing to go higher if I was a virgin.”  This time it was Palos who choked, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Must we discuss this?”  He sputtered in exasperation.  “And must I remind you that you are speaking about a rather powerful Lord and the father of the current heir.”

“So?  I like people knowing exactly where they stand.  I especially enjoy finding all the stains that good people try to hide when they stare down their noses at people like me.”  Dilandau stated, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest insolently.  “No one is clean Palos.  Not you, especially not me.  The only difference is that I openly acknowledge it.” 

“This isn’t the time or place to discuss things like this.”  The messenger argued softly, casting nervous looks at the closed door.  “I’ll happily argue semantics with you after we’ve finished all of this, but if you don’t mind, right now I’d like to focus on our current priority.”

“Why are you so nervous?”  The albino asked curiously, crimson eyes glittering from the depths of his hood.  “It’s my life they’re debating about in there, not yours.”

“I’m in almost as much trouble as you are.”  Palos snapped heatedly.  “I should have informed the King of your existence the instant I found out about you.  I didn’t, I stayed in that damn village and was poisoned by your damn brother.  Then I should have reported your return when we arrived at the manor, but again, I didn’t.  What I did could be considered to be treason.  I could be killed for keeping your secret.”

“So why didn’t you?”  The youth asked, leaning forward slightly, interest colouring his voice.  Palos paced back and forth for a moment in tight circles, tying to gather his thoughts, a difficult achievement given his agitated state.  Honestly, he knew that he should have.  True, his benefactors had wanted him to stay close to the albino and had said nothing on reporting his existence, but duty should have still come first, and he’d made no effort at all to report his findings upon arriving at Palas.   Dammit, the beast was correct, he was no better than the enemy in his own way.  The thought made him feel sick inside, though he struggled to keep this knowledge from showing on his face. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t report you.”  He finally sighed softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  “It didn’t even occur to me until now.”  Hopefully no one was listening at the half dozen spy holes littered around the room.  He didn’t want to end the day in the dungeons.

“For what it’s worth, Thank you.”  Gaddes said, flashing Palos a genuine smile.  “The kid means it too, he just doesn’t know how to say it.”  The crewman poured a second glass of water and offered it to the nervous messenger.  “No matter how this all turns out, what you did was a good thing.  Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”  Taking the glass, Palos flashed Gaddes a faint smile and raised it slightly in a toast.

“To trying to do good things.”

“I’ll second that.”  The two men smiled at each other and drank while Dilandau watched them, a faint smile tugging at his lips though the expression was hidden by the hood.

 

It was half an hour later when the doors finally opened and a dour looking knight entered the room, favouring them all with a disapproving glare, his hand casually resting on his sword.  Everyone immediately snapped into alertness, their eyes locking on the newcomer.

“His Highness, King Grava Aston will see you now.”  With that, he motioned for them to step out of the room, his posture stiff and formal though thankfully not overtly aggressive.  Still, Gaddes made sure that Dilandau was ahead of him so that he could keep an eye on the brat at all times.  While the teenager had appeared calm during the wait, amusing himself by stretching and contorting his body into all sorts of painful looking positions, the crewman knew that he was ready for a fight should it come to that.  He only hoped that the kid remembered to be on his best behavior.  Their lives all depended on it.

The room they were led to was a small audience chamber, likely meant to intimidate the guest without falling back on all the pomp and ceremony of the full court.  Gold leaf covered the walls of the room, making the entire area seem to glow with rich warmth.  The flag of Astoria hung from either side of the raised throne and a large gold carving of Jeture rose up from behind it, protecting the ruler of the land with its mighty presence.

King Aston sat in the throne, glaring coldly down at the newcomers, his bejeweled fingers gripping the armrests tightly.  Dryden and Van stood on either side of him, at the bottom of the raised dais, both of them looking as if they’d been through a rather intense battle.  As usual, the Fanelian king wore a faint thoughtful scowl which seemed to be his default expression as of late.  Dryden on the other hand gave them a faint smile of encouragement, likely not daring to show anything more than that.

Both Palos and Gaddes dropped to their knees the instant they saw the king, bowing their heads to the floor in reverence.  Dilandau glanced at them briefly and then bowed at the waist, the way one would when greeting a king from a foreign land.

“Remove your hood.  Let me look at the face which took the lives of so many of my people.”  His voice was low and unwelcoming, the nine Knights Caeli in the room watched with impassive eyes, ready to move at the slightest hint of defiance.

Straightening up, Dilandau slowly pulled the hood back from his face, never taking his eyes off of the king.  He had to admit to a small swell of satisfaction in seeing the cowardly ruler flinch upon feeling those piercing crimson eyes bite into him.

“Give me one good reason as to why I should follow this asinine idea concocted by my heir?  Why shouldn’t I have you bound in the stocks for the populace to tear to pieces?”  Beady eyes narrowed dangerously as fat fingers tugged idly at the thin blond mustache.  Dilandau studied the man intently, noting the slightly flushed neck, the dilated pupils and the faint sheen of sweat on his pale face.  He was nervous, despite having all of the power, this man was a coward and Dilandau represented the one thing which terrified him the most, the unknown element.

“Do you want the diplomatic answer?  Or an honest one?”  He asked, boldly leaving out the honorific, curious to see if he’d be called on it.  Even now with his life on the line, he was testing the chains around him.  His Masters would have been proud.

Both Van and Dryden looked shocked at the bold answer while King Aston simply smiled, eager to have this violent upstart hang himself with the rope provided.  He knew well enough that the Strategos had been the brains behind their partnership, keeping his pretty little mad dog on its leash until necessary.  There was no doubt in his mind that the albino would bury himself with little effort on his part, leaving the king’s hands clean and his power secure.

“Do be honest, it should be a refreshing change for you.”  He all but sneered, eager to begin his game of revenge.  Dilandau let the insult slide for now and took a moment to glance at the surrounding knights.

“Astoria’s army is a joke.”  He stated plainly, not bothering to sugar coat it in the least.  Behind him, he could hear Gaddes let out a soft groan, likely convinced that their chances were over before they’d even begun.  Even Van blanched visibly at the proclamation and Dryden cocked his head to the side, interested in seeing where this might be going.

King Aston leaned back in his chair, his brows lowering ominously at the insult.

“You dare insult the brave men of Astoria?”  He growled, all but ready to order the death of this foolish, vicious child.  “I could have your head for this.”

“You wished the truth.  Your Army is a joke and you’re well aware of that fact.  That’s why you catered so extensively to Zaibach during the war even when it clearly wasn’t in your best interest.”  It was hard to keep the smugness out of his voice as he remembered how delightfully the king had squirmed like a worm on a hook, too terrified to even accuse Dilandau openly of the mass slaughter he’d caused.  The fool had even gone so far as to apologize to the Stategos for allowing Escaflowne to wander about freely through his city, happily putting the blame for the massacre on Van.  Judging by the glare he was getting, the king remembered that incident as well.

“Astoria is a merchant country.  You’ve never had a need for a large standing army because you’re traditionally neutral.  Your treaties with your neighbours have always ensured peace and prosperity.” 

Dilandau thrilled at the feeling of power as he saw the king open his mouth, preparing to order his death, then pause… listening to his words.  The man might be craven, but he was a merchant through and through.  He sensed a deal to be made and would at the very least hear it out before making his decision.

“You’ve heard about Basram raising a new army, taking advantage of defecting Madoushi and using their vile experiments to bolster their power.  At this moment, as things stand, you will be swept away by their power.  All of the countries will because the energist bomb Basram dropped at the close of the war destroyed Zaibach and allies alike.  Your guymelef resources are barely at half what they were before the war and I’m sure the other countries face similar problems.  Zaibach might have stood a chance… but things aren’t going well for them I’ve heard.”  Pride demanded he take that little dig at the king for his foolishness.  Rather than fostering a new alliance with the technologically superior Zaibach, the ignorant insect had sought to tear it apart, destroying their best chance at surviving this mess.  Idiot.

“You have a small stockpile of Alseides class guymelef, but no pilots to control them.  I’m offering to train pilots for you, bringing your army back up to full power within a few months.  There is of course the option of simply rebuilding new Guymelef, though I’ve heard that can take centuries, as well as millions of gidaru.  Those resources would be much better used elsewhere seeing as how I’m not asking to be paid, only to have my basic needs provided for.  All I wish is to be permitted to live and fight our mutual enemies.” 

Now he was beginning to see the spark of interest in the king’s eyes.  Money had always been a huge motivator for the man, according to Folken.  Dilandau had never understood such a mindset.  Money meant very little to him and he honestly had no idea how much he held in his accounts in Zaibach, if they even still existed.  The military had always provided for his needs and he’d never felt driven to acquire things.  All that mattered to him was his armour, his sword and his guymelef.

“I’ve been told you also wish access to our most restricted files, taken from Zaibachs sorcerers.  How can we trust you wish such secrets?  You could easily be spying for those foul deviants.”

This time it was Dilandau who had to struggle not to grit his teeth at the accusation.  Moron!  Hadn’t he listened to a thing the other two had most likely said?  Was his head that far up his ass?

“You have been made aware of my… unique history?”

“Enough to know that the name Schezar is most assuredly cursed.”  Perhaps it was a good thing that he didn’t have his sword on hand.  While he cared little for his blood family, he had little desire to sit quietly while they were so openly insulted.  How Schezar tolerated such vitriol was beyond him.  He’d have burned the palace to the ground years ago.

“The Madoushi tore apart my family.  They made me into this.”  The rage made his voice shake and he made no effort to hide it.  It felt good to vent a little, even if he currently wanted to tear the king limb from limb, burning his flesh from his bones while he was still alive to scream.  “They’re currently attempting to recreate their experiments in Basram.  That means more tortured children, likely hundreds of them, and in the end, more of me.  I trust that I don’t need to explain how bad a thing that would be?”  Only now did he allow himself a flash of a vicious smile.

“We can’t fight or stop what we don’t understand.  The only reason your side won the Destiny War was because of that bit-… because of Hitomi and her Visions.  We don’t have access to her this time and the only insight you have into the minds of the Madoushi is me.  I grew up in their labs.  I knew most of them far better than any living creature on Gaea, but what I don’t know is what they did to me.  That information was locked away from my waking mind.  By reading the files, we can learn about their experiments and stop them.  Failing that, we can find a weakness to exploit.

“I’ve been told that you have scholars who are capable of reading Zaibachi, but I doubt you have any capable of reading the Madoushi codes, meaning that all of their files are still hidden away from you.  I know the cyphers and can read them.  I grew up reading them and I’m willing to translate in return for a full pardon and the status of legal adulthood.  The decision is yours Your Highness.”

Folken would have been proud.  Few people ever looked past Dilandau’s violent temper to realize that he was an exceptionally intelligent young man, a fact he was always happy to exploit.  True, he did tend to get caught up in the moment, but when he was calm, he was fully capable of flashes of sheer brilliance.  It took more than the ability to swing a sword to lead the most elite fighting unit in Zaibach.

“And here I thought you were nothing but Folken’s vicious little pet catamite.”  The king sneered, leaning forward, his fingers stroking his moustache once more.  The insult made Dilandau’s blood boil, but he knew a trap when he saw one.  Instead of reacting, he simply smiled and tucked away the memory until a more opportune time.  One day he’d see that fool burn, and it would be a glorious day indeed.

“It seems that I was mistaken, there’s a brain beneath that pretty face after all.”  Thin lips pressed together in a sly smile as the king eyed the young Dragonslayer.  “I will hold to the agreement my heir has proposed.  You will fight for Astoria to the best of your abilities.  You will defend its honour and conduct yourself in an appropriate manner.  Should you break our laws or attempt to run from this agreement your pardon will be revoked and I will own you.  Do you understand these terms?”

“Of course Your Highness.”  Ugh, it infuriated him to call that fool anything respectful.  To him, only Emperor Dornkirk deserved such honorifics, not this coward who never understood sacrifice in the name of destiny.

“Then bow properly to your king.  How dare you remain standing in my presence.”  For a moment, all Dilandau could do was glare, utterly insulted at the sheer gall of the man.  He’d only knelt for two men in his life, his Master and his Emperor.  This man was neither.  Still, he recognized that eager light in the king’s eyes and knew that this was simply another little game to him.  No doubt the first of many as King Aston sought out his numerous petty acts of revenge.

Two could play at that game, and when it came to call in his tally, revenge was going to be glorious.

Without a word of complaint, Dilandau sank down to his knees and bowed his head.  Loathing filled his eyes, but he kept them carefully downcast and ignored the prickling of his skin which tended to precede his worst bouts of temper.  The urge to murder something was growing stronger and he desperately hoped that he would be away from this loathsome toad of a man before it overwhelmed him completely.

“Rise Lord Schezar.  You have work to do.”  His fingers dug into the cold stone beneath them, nearly breaking several nails with the force of the pressure alone as he heard the hated name.  _No… don’t do this!_   He thought desperately.  _Don’t’ take my name away… I fought so hard for it!_ The title meant nothing to him, it was an empty word bereft of meaning but his name… his name meant freedom, it meant he was a person and not a thing.  It had been the first thing in his life that had ever been his and it was more precious to him than anything else.  The very idea of that identity being taken away nearly cost him everything right there.

His muscles tightened as he prepared to leap at the king, willing to die rather than lose that final piece of his identity.  A wash of coldness flowed over him, chilling his flesh and snapping his mind out of the rapidly tightening spiral of madness.

_Let them call you what they wish, they mean nothing remember? Empty titles for empty men.  You will always be Dilandau Albatou and no one can ever take that away._ It was Gatti’s voice again, whispering in his ear as phantom hands gripped his arms.  Again, that comforting and familiar scent filled his nose and he breathed in deeply, trying to find calm in the presence of his Dragonslayer.

“I don’t want to be a Schezar.”  He murmured softly, not caring that all the eyes in the room were watching him curiously, wondering why he wasn’t rising.  “I earned my name.  I fought so hard for it.”  Rage rose up once again and he grit his teeth hard enough that he could hear his jaw creak in protest.

_Sir_ Miguel’s voice washed over him and icy fingers stroked through his hair, chilling his scalp.  _Duty before pleasure.  Stop your enemies and put an end to the Madoushi’s madness forever.  Once that’s finished, we’ll gladly tear this bastard apart for you and drag his soul to the Paths of the Dead.  He’ll be hunted for eternity by us, we promise this.  All we ask is that you bear this insult.  Take the weapons he gives you and use them to make yourself strong.  We love you sir, don’t throw away our sacrifice._

It was the reminder of their sacrifice which snapped him back to reality.  He’d disappointed his men once already, he wouldn’t do so again.  They were right, he still had his name.  This fool couldn’t take it away from him, only the one who’d given it could take it away, and Emperor Dornkirk was long dead.  He would always be Dilandau Albatou, captain of the Dragonslayers, but in a way, he was also Dilandau Schezar.  It was a loathsome name, but it had power and it cemented his right to be in this land.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his eyes meeting those of the king who visibly blanched at the sight of the flickering red glow in their depths.

“When do you want me to begin selecting pilots?”  He asked in a voice which was so calm and controlled that it didn’t even sound real.  Anyone who knew this voice knew that it was a clear warning sign of explosive violence, but the king simply smiled, believing that it meant the youth had been bent to his will.

“You will begin in the morning.  I expect to see you at morning exercises examining prospective warriors.  You will spend the days training them and ensuring that the guymelef are safe for use.  In the evenings, I expect you to be translating the files from the Zaibach archives.  A scholar will be on hand to record your translations.  I would advise honesty in the translations.”  Dilandau simply nodded his head at the warning, having had no intention of lying regarding what he read.

“You will be presented to the Court this afternoon and will be expected to attend evening meal.  Prior to that, I will send the court tailor to you.  A nobleman should be dressed according to their station, not in their older brothers cast offs.”  King Aston sneered at the ill-fitting clothing which hung off of Dilandau’s slender frame.  “A servant will be by to show you to your rooms.  Lord Fassa, I will require a word with you.”

The dismissal was obvious and Dilandau was more than happy to take it.  Judging by how quickly the others all exited the room, taking a moment to bow deeply, or in Van’s case, politely nod his head.  As promised the servant was waiting for them.  He was a mousy looking thing with the most nondescript shade of brown for hair that Dilandau had ever seen.  The eyes seemed to match and coupled with the weak chin, unimpressive physique and bland facial features, this man seemed to have been bred for the position.  You could be staring right at him and utterly ignore his existence until he spoke.  Damn if the man didn’t have the smoothest and most relaxing voice Dilandau had ever heard.

“If you would come with me, your rooms have been prepared.  I took the liberty of placing them near your own guest residence King Fanel, seeing as how you will be working together?  I hope that it wasn’t presumptive of me.”  He smiled warmly at the king and gave Dilandau a curious look.  The young captain had thoughtfully pulled his hood forward once more, deciding that the fewer who knew his identity at this point, the better.  It would be a moot point in a few hours, but he’d rather have his room given to him first before the servant realized who he was.  That way he didn’t end up living in the broom closet or something equally unpleasant.

Following the servant was simple enough, the man walked with an unhurried gait, pointing out any amenities they might need and prattling on about the palace schedules so they would know when the maids would come through to clean, when laundry would be gathered and most importantly, when meals were to be served.  Breakfasts and lunches were served in an informal setting in their wings dining room, or eaten within one’s own quarters, though the staff required prior notice of such arrangements.  Dinners were held at seven each night in the formal dining room for nobility and at six for the staff.  Apparently Palos and Gaddes were considered the latter as a pointed look was shot in their direction.  The evening meal was not optional and the presence of both noble and royals were expected.

The idea of eating in a formal dining room, surrounded by the people he’d butchered during the war wasn’t a pleasant one, especially knowing that his only allies would be Van and Dryden.  Dilandau made a mental note to be especially attentive just in case any poisons found their way onto his plate.  Unfortunately, he knew that he was going to be woefully unfamiliar with the food, making identifying anything dangerous by taste chancy at best.

“Have you ever eaten at a formal dinner?”  Palos couldn’t help but ask the hooded albino as they walked through the hallways.  The hood tilted slightly and he could feel the weight of the glare levelled against him.

“No, I always ate my food raw and on the bone.”  His voice was so cold that for a moment the messenger actually believed him.  Noticing Gaddes’ smirk killed that misconception quickly enough.  “Look, I’m only trying to help make things easier for you.”  He shot at the teenager, only to quickly bite back his words when he saw just how tightly those snowy white hands were being clenched into fists and then felt the rolling waves of violence radiating off of the slight form.  Even Gaddes seemed to have taken a step back, giving the teenager space.  Taking his cues from the crewman, Palos fell silent and lengthened his stride, putting space between them.

Oblivious to the potential danger, the servant happily prattled on before finally reaching a rather finely decorated wing of the castle.  The hallway had polished wood on the floor which seemed to glow a subdued gold in the sunlight.  There were plenty of windows and several verdant green plants growing in well-lit alcoves.  A small library stood open, filled with books from around the world, artifacts and curios were displayed tastefully in glass boxes and several comfortable chairs were scattered about.

Next to it was a comfortable lounge, complete with opulent fireplace, high back chairs and more books.  There were also several tables for card games or friendly gambling.  Stuffed animals of all variety prowled and postured in various niches, trophies from past hunts.  Van had always loathed the room, seeing little reason behind hunting an animal for display purposes.  The Fanelians were too practical for such frivolities.  They hunted for food or to protect themselves, never for sport. 

Further down the hall they were told was the breakfast and lunch area for this hallway and Van nodded his head disinterestedly, already knowing all of it well enough.  He also knew about the two conference rooms located a few doors down and made a mental note to show them to his compatriots.  No doubt they would be spending quite a bit of time there going over information and plans.

True to the servant’s word, Van’s room was ready for him; the windows open to allow the fresh air in.  Everything was as he’d left it, not that it had required much effort seeing as how he hadn’t collected much during his time in Astoria.  He’d been either too busy escaping custody, or planning out a desperate war.

Dilandau’s room was somewhat smaller.  Still, judging by the way the teenager stiffened, it was far more opulent than anything he was used to.  There was a large double bed, neatly made with fresh sheets, a rather large desk already equipped with paper, quills and ink.  A nice sized fireplace dominated part of one wall and even though it wasn’t needed at this time of year, several logs were piled up neatly next to it.  A large wardrobe took up an impressive chunk of the wall though a discreet check on Van’s part showed that it was empty at this moment save for a loose sleeping gown that the Astorian’s seemed to favour.  He couldn’t wait for Dilandau to find it, he’d throw a fit.

Three high backed chairs were placed by the large windows which were open to allow for the gentle noonday breeze, a low table between them.  On this table rested Dilandau’s sword and daggers.  A sight which brought out a happy gasp from the youth as he rushed into the room and snatched them up before anyone even realized they were there.  In moments, they were strapped to his waist and tucked into his boots where they belonged.  A feeling of relief filled him and a weight lifted off of his shoulders.  So long as he was armed, he could handle anything. 

He ran his hand lovingly along the grip of his sword, barely listening to the servant as he happily showed off the rest of the room.  Yes, it was lovely and extravagant and utterly pointless.  He’d have been perfectly happy in a small room with a bed, desk and weapon rack, so long as the room was clean.  There was no need for so much wasted space.  He could have housed the entire Elite squad of Dragonslayers here comfortably, possibly even the second tier slayers if they got cozy.  Why did Astorians need so much damn space?

While the large glass doors located on one wall were aesthetically pleasing and let in a good amount of air and light, they practically begged for an assassin to come crawling in and would be impossible to bar shut against any sort of determined assault.  The balcony just beyond it would give any would be attackers room to move and manoeuver, not to mention a place to hide just out of easy view until they were ready to strike.  Granted, it did have the advantage of opening up onto the central courtyard which would make any intrusion easy to spot from the ground.  He’d also be able to watch the morning training from the comfort of his room, making him wonder just how many Astorian captains had done so, the lazy sods. 

When he opened up the door at the far end of the room, he’d been expecting to find a private toilet and perhaps a simple showering area but was pleasantly surprised.  There was a decent looking toilet with a pull cord which would no doubt release enough water to wash the waste away down a drain.  But what caught his attention was the large elegant bath which dominated the small room.  It was deep, held above the floor on feet shaped like a dragons and was easily large enough to hold two adult men.  Above it was a shower head and a thick curtain which could be pulled around the tub for privacy.  The neat network of pipes spoke of fresh water on demand and the two faucets hinted at both hot and cold running water.  Perhaps there was hope for these barbarians yet. 

Someone had even thoughtfully left several bottles of soap and various body oils on the edge of the tub.  While he doubted that he’d approve of the scents, he still itched to try them.  If he had one weakness, Dilandau had to admit that it was hot baths.  There were few things he found more relaxing than submerging himself in steaming hot scented water until his body wrinkled.  It was even better if he had someone in there with him.  

“If you two will come with me, I’ll show you where you will be staying.”  The servant motioned for Gaddes and Palos to follow him, his words catching Dilandau’s attention.  Before the crewman could even move, the zaibach teen had grabbed onto his shoulder, holding him in place.

“He’ll be staying here with me.”  There was no room for argument in his voice and though the servant couldn’t see the face of the young Lord, he knew instinctively that arguing wouldn’t end well.  Still, there was propriety to consider and he’d be ill served if he didn’t point that out.

“But my Lord, he’s a servant…”

“My servant, and I expect him to be available at all times.”  Dilandau growled, his fingers tightening on Gaddes’ shoulders, silently warning him to not say a thing.  “Bring up a cot if need be.  I refuse to wander about the palace whenever I need him.”

“Of course my Lord.”  The servant bowed deeply, all too familiar with the strange requests of nobility.  He’d long ago learned not to ask questions or ponder the reasons behind his orders.  It simply wasn’t his place.  Instead, he waited for Palos to join him.

“I have my own rooms in the messengers hall.”  Palos stated with a touch of his old arrogance as he squared his shoulders, attempting to sound more important than he appeared after days of running around through the woods and being chased by evil mercenaries.

“Of course.”  The servant agreed once again.  “The keys to your room are on the table.  If there is anything else you require?”  No one was forthcoming.  “Excellent.  I shall send a girl up with a cot for you as well as proper sheets.  If there is anything else you need, simply pull that cord and I will attend you.”  He motioned towards an elegantly braided cord hanging by the door and then departed silently, leaving the men to discuss their current events in peace.

The door had barely even closed before Van rounded on Dilandau, glaring at him with barely restrained rage, a look which was mirrored with equal fervor by the albino.  Both Gaddes and Palos took an exaggerated step back, familiar enough with the standoff which was about to occur.

“When were you going to tell us?”  The Fanelian king spat out viciously.  “Or were you just saving them for a little surprise when things didn’t go your way?”

“Them?  Them who?”  Gaddes couldn’t help but ask, though he quickly shut up when those smoldering brown eyes glared him into silence.

“I think the stress of the situation is getting to you Van.”  Dilandau sneered.  “You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too, but after spending a year fighting you, I’ve learned to trust my instincts and I know damn well that I haven’t been imagining what I’ve seen.”

“And what do you think you’ve seen Van?”  Dilandau leaned closer, clearly invading the king’s personal space and radiating potential violence.  Gaddes found himself wishing that the brat hadn’t armed himself before this conversation had taken place because it would be horrible to have gone through all of this trouble only to have a body on their hands.  Jeture… he was sounding like bloody Folken of all people!  That couldn’t be mentally healthy; the man wore friggin eyeliner and had facial tattoos!

“The ghosts.”  Van spat back angrily.  “You failed to mention that you still had your pack of psychotic boyfriends following you around!”  The slap was hard enough to send the Fanelian king to the floor, just as stunned as everyone else in the room save for the albino who stood over him with an utterly vicious sneer twisting his usually beautiful face.  Worse, that mad light was back in his eyes, warning that the violence wasn’t anywhere close to over.

“Don’t you DARE insult them!”  Dilandau snarled, lashing out viciously with a foot, fully intending to kick the king in the face for the affront to his men.  Gaddes thanked his long experience with the brat for letting him recognize when it was time to intervene and he lunged before the foot connected, tacking Dilandau to the ground in a rough tangle of limbs.  “You don’t get to insult them EVER!”  The zaibach youths voice was growing louder and more unhinged as he struggled against Gaddes.  A solid elbow collided with the side of the crewman’s jaw and he received a rather painful knee to his ribs which forced the air from his lungs.

“When were you going to tell us?!”  Van shot back, picking himself up off of the floor and wiping away the blood from his split lip.  “When they tore our souls out?”

“Um… what are they talking about?”  Palos murmured, his voice barely heard over the two teenagers.  Clearly the only intelligent one in the room, he was backing away from the struggle cautiously, rather sure he wanted no part in this.

“Get off of me you overweight Fanelian!”  Dilandau snapped at Gaddes before biting him hard in the arm, forcing the older man to jerk his hand back or loose a chunk of skin.  The instant he moved, a fist collided with his face, sending him falling off of the Dragonslayer.  Damn the kid could pack a punch, his head was spinning from the one blow and he was pretty sure that one of his teeth was loose. 

Rather than roll back to his feet with his usual uncanny grace, Dilandau lay there on the floor, clutching at his head and writhing like an injured snake.  His skin had suddenly taken on a sickly greyish hue and sweat glistened on every inch of exposed flesh. 

“Dilandau?”  He wasn’t faking it that was for sure.  In fact, he looked like he was suffering from a severe case of shock.  “Kid?!”  Panic filled Gaddes as he lunged for the albino, trying to pry the fingers away from his face before he caused any damage to himself.  “Dammit Van!  Help me!”

Even as he spoke, Dilandau shuddered violently one last time then fell strangely limp.  He was breathing, but it was rapid and shallow, his eyes were wide and staring vacantly ahead, the pupils so dilated that the crimson was almost completely swallowed up by darkness.

Van quickly pushed him aside, all animosity forgotten as he checked for a pulse and studied the rise and fall of the slender chest.

“Did he eat or drink anything while you were all in that room?”  He asked, his voice sounding purely professional as he quickly checked for any sign of head or neck trauma.  All Gaddes could do was sit there, utterly in shock, unable to process what had just happened.   It was Palos who finally stepped forward, unable to take his eyes off of the limp body on the floor.

“No, only Gaddes and I had the water.  He hasn’t even touched anything since we got here… other than his weapons… Could there be some sort of poison on them?” 

Instantly, Van was sniffing at the handle of the sword, looking at it from all angles, trying to see if there was some sort of residue left behind, but it looked just as it always did and the only smell was the clove oil he insisted on using to care for the blade.  When that didn’t satisfy him, he then grabbed Dilandau’s wrists, examining his hands for any sign of irritation, but other than some bruised knuckles, they were smooth and unmarked.

“I don’t think its poison, but we should get someone over here to look it over just in case.”  He cautioned, carefully lowering the hands to the floor.  “Can you get him on the bed?”  Nodding his head, Gaddes quickly picked up the limp form, holding him tightly against his chest for a moment, feeling that rapid heartbeat pounding against his skin like a frantic birds.

Almost instantly, he felt that slender body curl against him and heard a soft moan as warm air brushed across his collarbone.  Shock froze him more than anything and he stood there as slender arms wrapped around him, holding him close while Dilandau all but nuzzled him.

Relief almost sent them both to the floor once more and Gaddes sat down on the bed, still cradling his lover close, not caring at all that the other two men were watching.  Right now he didn’t care if they knew about their relationship or not.  What mattered was that Dilandau was alright.

Murmuring softly to the albino, he ran his fingers through that silken soft silvery white hair and felt the body relax against him with a soft sigh of pleasure.

“Shhh, relax, I’ve got you.  You’ll be ok.”

“Does… this sort of thing happen often?”  Van asked as he watched them, noting the utter tenderness in how the crewman held the dragonslayer.  He was still too stunned to even begin thinking about their closeness.  Right now, all he cared about was figuring out what had happened.

“This has never happened before.”  Gaddes replied, his voice soft and gentle, not wanting to upset Dilandau who was only now blinking his eyes and looking around in a somewhat dazed fashion.  He made no move to pull away from his lover and Gaddes wasn’t at all inclined to make him.  Instead, he held him even closer, promising with every touch to protect the teenager and care for him.

“What… what happened?”  Dilandau murmured, his cheek resting gently against Gaddes’ chest.  The kid sounded utterly dazed, as if he’d just been hit in the head by something heavy.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.  What do you remember?”  Gaddes asked, still stroking his hair, remembering how much the teenager loved it.  As expected, he closed those crimson eyes for a moment and sighed in pleasure as he relaxed a little more into the embrace.

“Fighting… so angry… wanted to kill…needed to kill.”  He didn’t sound the least bit concerned over this though both Palos and Van stiffened where they stood.  The young king looked both concerned and utterly unamused by the revelation.  “You… you knocked me over and I hit you… then pain.  Ugh… felt like everything was tearing itself apart…like I was back on the table…”  He shuddered and snuggled closer to Gaddes, drinking in his warmth greedily.  “Now… now everything feels good…”  A smile flickered across those soft lips and to Gaddes’s shock, Dilandau began to gently kiss along his neck in full view of everyone. 

Hands which had previously held him for support now hungrily explored his body, seeking to get beneath his blouse with little regard for their audience.  A large part of the crewman revelled in the touch, drinking in the pleasure of those soft lips and teasing touches, but he knew how much Dilandau loathed public displays of affection.  The fact that he was doing this in front of other people, specifically Van was more than enough to short circuit any feelings of lust which might be stirring inside him.

Dilandau let out a soft mewl of protest when Gaddes quickly shifted away, placing the teenager on the bed and then gently pressing his wrists to the mattress before they could grab onto his blouse and pull him down with him.

“Not a good time kid.  Believe me.”  He motioned with his chin towards their audience and saw Dilandau follow his line of sight.

“Oh.”  The sound was so adorable that it almost undid him right there and then, but dredging up some previously hidden well of willpower, Gaddes nodded and smiled gently.

“Yeah… oh.”  Dammit the kid was adorable.  He almost wished that Van and Palos would just leave the damn room so he could see what other cute noises he could wring out of his precious dragonslayer, but honestly, there was just too much hanging in the air between them all right now.

“Well, now we have three uncomfortable surprises to deal with in under as many minutes.  I think that’s a record even for you.”  Van couldn’t help but rub his temples, feeling a rather strong headache coming on.  At least he sounded more tired and aggravated than angry.  They’d finally reached the point where things were just failing to shock him anymore.  “Allen doesn’t know does he?”  He motioned towards the two lovers on the bed, his tone of voice stopping just short of being accusing.  No answer was really required; he only needed to see Gaddes’ guilty look and Dilandau’s smirk to know the truth.

“Great… well, at least now I know why you added in that whole legal adult thing into the agreement.  Thought you were being clever were you?”  This time those angry brown eyes glared at Dilandau who simply flashed him an utterly unapologetic smile.

“You should try getting laid sometime.”  The albino taunted playfully.  “It would do wonders for your temper.”

“Because you’re so well known for your good nature.”  Van bit back before shifting his gaze to Gaddes.  “And you?  Really?  Ignoring the fact that he’s Celena, your best friends little sister, He’s the guy who spent a year trying to murder us!  What in the name of all the gods of Gaea were you thinking?”  The king’s voice was growing louder and angrier with every passing moment.  “Oh, I forgot, the blood clearly wasn’t going to your brain.”

“Like you would know anything about that.”  Dilandau sneered, shifting on the bed so that he was positioned protectively in front of Gaddes, looking perfectly willing to defend him despite having been convulsing on the floor mere moments before.  “You’re the one still crying over your damn Mystic Moon bitch.  Tell me Van, did she ever actually spread her legs for you?  Or is your obsession for her just some adorable little virgin fantasy that you’re too scared to let go of?”

This time it was Van who swung first.  The fist was easily blocked by the Dragonslayer who caught it by the wrist and twisted his hand slightly.  The movement was subtle, but Van dropped to his knees with a gasp of pain, the colour suddenly draining from his face.  Before he could even think of trying to recover, Dilandau shifted his grip again, sending the king all the way to the floor where he landed hard.  A knee was placed firmly on his shoulder while the wrist remained trapped in the merciless grip.  The king’s free hand grabbed at the floor, trying to find purchase, but every movement simply hurt too much.

“I don’t care what you think about us.”  Dilandau leaned forward slightly to hiss into Van’s ear, drinking in the pain he knew was tearing through his enemy’s muscles.  “But you’d damn well better remember that we’re all in this mess together, so keep your damn opinions to yourself when something doesn’t concern you.  Who I fuck is my business, not yours.  Why I fuck them isn’t your problem either.  Right now, your only problem is whether or not you’ve pissed me off enough to break your fucking wrist.”

“Y… you’re only doing this… to… to hurt Allen!”  Van ground out stubbornly, still struggling to free himself from the brutal grip.  Smiling with poisonous sweetness, Dilandau placed a little more weight on the shoulder, feeling the joint threaten to pop out of the socket.  All it would take was just a little shift, and he’d be able to hear the most beautiful screams.  His tongue slipped between his lips, licking them in anticipation.

“No, I’m doing this because he’s a phenomenal lay who’s hung like a horse.  Pissing off Schezar just happens to be a delightful bonus.”

“You’re disgusting!”

“No, I’m psychotic.  I’m also seconds away from crippling you.  Would you like to insult me again?”

“Dilandau, that’s enough.”  Gaddes spoke up, his voice cautious and his movements slow as he reached out towards his lover.  “We just surprised him.  There’s no need for any more violence.  We’re all on the same side remember?”   Crimson eyes glared at the crewman for a moment, still simmering with anger.  With a disgusted sound, Dilandau released the king, taking a step back just in case Van came up fighting.

Van chose instead to roll away from the albino, getting warily to his feet, his hand on his sword just in case the attack continued.  When he realized that the Dragonslayer was leaning against the wall, looking as relaxed as could be, he allowed his hand to drop.

“How did you and Folken ever get along without killing each other?”  The king finally asked, taking a moment to rub his sore shoulder and move the arm cautiously, making sure that nothing was actually damaged.  To his surprise, the joint while sore, seemed to work just fine. 

“I’m not going to tell you all of Zaibach’s secrets.”  Dilandau smirked without any hint of rancor.  Clearly as far as he was concerned, the matter was dropped.  Gaddes took a moment to study the two teenagers, making sure that both were truly relaxed and not just luring the other into a false sense of security.  Jeture, he was going to have grey hair before he was thirty at this rate.

“So, that’s one surprise dealt with, and we have no idea why you fell over… I don’t suppose you’ll let us get a doctor in here to look at you?”  After seeing how terrified Dilandau was of the Madoushi, it wasn’t any sort of surprise to receive a glare of death for the suggestion.  “Right, I had to ask.”  He grumbled softly, fully intending to still look into what happened whether Dilandau wanted him to or not.  Healthy teenagers didn’t just randomly collapse in agony for no reason. 

Running his hand through his hair and taking a moment to examine the aching bite on his arm, he couldn’t quite keep from wincing as he noticed the blood and rather neat imprints of the brats teeth embedded in his flesh. One day he was going to remember that the little bastard bit.  Add one more scar to his ever growing list.

“How about the original problem?  Namely, what the hell were you talking about?  Are you saying that your buddies are still hanging around watching us?”  Jeture… his soul was going to be ripped out of his body and shredded, he just knew it.  There was no way those kids were going to take well to the fact that he was buggering their leader.  He couldn’t help but glance around the room nervously, expecting to feel the icy hands of death any moment now.

“Stop worrying Fanelian.”  Dilandau flashed him a wicked grin, accurately guessing what was racing through the crewman’s mind.  “They like you… probably because of the whole dragon riding thing.  They also figure that you help keep me out of trouble… well, you try at any rate.  They can relate to that.”  He wasn’t sure how much of a relief that was supposed to be.  The idea of fifteen overprotective and rather murderous kids watching the two of them together was more than a little unnerving… especially since he knew that several of them were former lovers.   Really, it was just one more thing to add to the growing plethora of problems currently crushing them. 

“I don’t know what Van’s so upset about.”  The brat smirked playfully, oblivious to Gaddes obvious concern.  “It’s not as if they go out of their way to bother him.  You’re so paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid!  I’m upset because you have a pack of homicidal ghosts who have already tried to kill me once and you didn’t see fit to tell us about them.”  Van ground out, doing his best to keep from yelling, though considering how tightly his hands were clenched into fists, it was a close fight.

Rather than rise to the bait, Dilandau simply shot the king a smug grin which was only a short step away from a full on sneer before leaning comfortably against the wall, his fingers laced behind his head.

“You murdered them you asshole, did you expect them to send you flowers?”

“Wait… ghosts?  Ghosts don’t exist.”  Palos’ voice was little more than a squeak and Gaddes snatched the glass of water from his hands before he could spill it on Dilandau and add to their current list of problems.  “Please tell me ghosts don’t exist.”

“So why didn’t you tell us about them?!”  Van pressed, choosing to ignore the messenger.  His eyes were hard and accusing, though at least the immediate threat of violence had passed.  Gaddes handed the water to Dilandau, making sure some of it was drunk before the kid answered the question.  He wasn’t going to risk his lover’s health, not after such an unnerving collapse. 

“You can relax Fanelian, I’m not about to fall over dead.”  Dilandau grumbled at Gaddes as he drank the water.  Though he sounded irritated, the crewman noticed that he hadn’t completely pulled away from his proximity either.  Van continued to glare at him as he drank until finally after giving the king an annoyed glare, he handed the water back and resumed smirking.

“They don’t want you dead Van, so relax.  They’re the ones who suggested trying to get along with you actually.  Bossy sons of bitches, trying to tell me what to do.”  He glared at the empty air around them, looking far more entertained than angry.  “They want to stop this mess as much as we do, and as I said, my men are as loyal as they are skilled.  They’re not going to let something like death stop them from doing their duty.”

“So you can speak to them?”

“Yes Van, that usually goes along with me stating that they suggested things to me.”

“How are you just glossing over this?  You talk to dead people!”

“Don’t be a bigot, there’s nothing wrong with talking to my Dragonslayers.”

“You really are insane aren’t you?”

“And yet again I’m left wondering at the wisdom of not running you through.  Look Van.  My Dragonslayers are still here, they’re watching and they’re listening, so stop insulting them or we’ll all get annoyed with you.  All they’re doing is defending me, so as long as you don’t try anything stupid, you should all get along fine.”

“No wonder you weren’t worried about walking into the palace unarmed.”  Van shook his head in exasperation, doing his best to not think about how many people would have died had anyone actually attacked Dilandau.  He couldn’t even imagine the level of loyalty it would take to follow someone from beyond the grave.  How had a psychotic monster like the Dragonslayer captain managed it?

“I don’t know if I can handle this… pillars of light, guymelefs popping up, now ghosts…”  Palos muttered as he began pacing the room, not even noticing that he was being ignored by the others.  “How do you all keep it together?  This is madness!”

“Being crazy seems to help.”  Dilandau offered helpfully.  “Now stop pacing, it’s annoying me.”

“Pacing calms me down!”

“Stabbing things calms ME down.  How about I pin your feet to the damn floor?”  The smile was full of teeth and the threat was clear.  Palos stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of one of the chairs, toying with the hem of his jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that went well. \^_^  
> Next Chapter!: Introductions at Court and a duel! Plus more familiar faces make an appearance.


	24. A Schezar by any other name...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day doesn't go quite as smoothly as planned... but what else is new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters... I think we've established that. ^_^ Not making any money either.  
> Sorry for the delay in posting. A good friend of mine died last week and that has had me a little off my game. I've been focusing mostly on drawing to get my mind off things. If anyone is interested, I have pics up on tumblr and deviant art under the name Nehasy. Most are related to this story at various points.  
> Many thanks to the Esca fandom which is still alive and kicking. You guys keep my love of this show burning and I love the Dragonslayer oriented discussions with Drkstars.

While no one had been stabbed, or attacked in the past few minutes, it did little to settle the nerves of everyone present.  So far, the two teenagers seemed content to glare at each other from across the room, well, Van was glaring, Dilandau seemed to have settled on a mocking smirk, all but daring the young king to draw steel.  Palos had ceased pacing after Dilandau’s threat and instead stood nervously by the balcony door, no doubt contemplating how fatal the drop might be should he choose to make a speedy exit.

Gaddes on the other hand was taking the opportunity to stretch out on the bed and kick his feet up.  A glass of wine was in his hand and he nibbled absently at some fruit from a nearby bowl.  It’s not that he wasn’t worried about this temporary reprieve from the madness of his life.  More that he was determined to enjoy any spare moment of sanity he could capture.  Besides, here he was, the bastard brat of a fishmonger relaxing in the Astorian palace with the king of Fanelia and a Zaibach warlord.  He doubted that even Hitomi would have seen this coming.

“Get your boots off the bed Fanelian.”  Dilandau muttered, stepping over and casually knocking the crewman’s feet from their perch before reaching over and pouring himself a glass of wine.  “I expect a certain level of civility from the man I let fuck me.” 

Both Palos and Gaddes sputtered at the boldly proclaimed statement, one in offense and the other in surprise.  The crewman could feel his face redden as he glared up at the brat who calmly sipped at his wine, making no attempt to hide the smile on his face.  On his side of the room, Van simply sighed and shook his head.  He’d said his piece on the matter and while he didn’t approve of their relationship, he knew that Dilandau was right.  It wasn’t his problem.  Unfortunately, Palos hadn’t gotten that message and stepped forward, radiating all the indignity of an Astorian noble when confronted with a scandal. 

“Must you say such things?  Do you understand how improper such relations are!?  The social repercussions alone could-”

“Palos, you know who I am and what I’ve done.  Do you honestly think that who I’m bedding is going to lessen what people here think of me?  The only reason I’m still alive is because I can provide a necessary service for the king.  I’m also under no illusions that once I’ve served my purpose, there will most likely be a “horrible accident” of some sort, removing any complications my continued existence might cause.”  Dilandau calmly sipped his wine as he spoke.  “Hell, if Gaddes plays his cards right, he might actually get a medal.  I’m sure that many people would love to know that one of their countrymen is bending me over and giving it to me hard.”  He snickered softly to himself.  “You know, giving that little zaibach freak what he deserves.” 

“Wow, you certainly know how to put the romance into a relationship there kid.”  Gaddes grumbled, rolling his eyes in response to Dilandau’s dramatics.  Had it been anyone other than the brat saying that, he might have been offended, but he knew the kid well enough to know that he was just trying to get a reaction out of their two companions in order to relieve his tension. 

Palos looked about ready to faint right there on the floor while Van simply glared at him, mentally trying to render the albino mute rather than listen to any more details about his sex life.  Without a word, Gaddes poured the king a glass of wine and held it out to him. 

“Drink up Fanelia.”  He advised.  “He’s not going to stop until you either attack him or distract him.  Alcohol eventually helps tune him out.” 

“Are you mocking me Fanelian?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”  Gaddes smiled sweetly at his lover who was giving him a rather dangerous and dark glare.  “Seeing as how you’re in such a talkative mood, why don’t you tell us your lesson plan for dealing with all of these new would be pilots?” 

That seemed to divert his attention from offending their companions, earning him a grateful look from both of them as Van eased over and took the wine from Gaddes.  He quickly drained half of it before sitting down in a nearby chair, interested in hearing what the young captain had to say.  While Van had loathed the Dragonslayers, even he had to admit that they were terrifyingly skilled and effective in their tactics.  He’d never met anyone of their skill level aside form Allen and those cat girls. 

“My first problem is going to be sorting out the chaff from those few who are worth my time and effort.”  Dilandau stated idly, staring thoughtfully into his glass of wine, swirling it around gently as he spoke.  “I know that King Aston is going to throw every hotshot would be pilot he can get his hands on at me.  It won’t matter to him that what makes a good guymelef pilot won’t make a good Alseides pilot.  The two systems are completely different.”

“But you said that you know how to pilot both Alseides and classical guymelefs, so it can be done.”  Gaddes pointed out with a smile.  Part of him wondered if this claim was at all similar to his claim of being able to pilot leviships.  As if sensing this, Dilandau flipped him a hand gesture.  This one was new though he was sure it was every bit as rude as the other one.

“Let me guess, you learned the Alseides systems first right?”  Van actually sounded interested in the conversation as he spoke up.  “Classical guyemelfs are pretty intuitive once you get used to the drag and the hydraulics.  I looked into your Oreades after the final battle… it gave me a headache just trying to figure out what half the buttons did, let alone all the equipment you had jammed in there.  Escaflowne is much simpler inside.”

Surprisingly, Dilandau actually nodded his head and smiled at the king.  It figured that those two would somehow bond over war machines. 

“Exactly.  That’s why I want soldiers who have never piloted a guymelef.  It’s so much harder to get someone to unlearn bad habits than to create new ones.  The Dragonslayers were all fresh out of the Academy.  I wanted new soldiers in my unit, ones I could teach properly without having to deal with the mistakes some idiot captain might have put into their heads.”  His smile was almost fond for a moment and he closed his eyes.  Gaddes could only hope that it was in memory of his lost unit as opposed to him listening to their dead voices.

“I’ll also be expecting you to get your damn demon armour Van.”  The smile faded as soft lips compressed into a tight line as the dragonslayer captain struggled not to snarl the words.  “We’re going to have to learn to fight together as a unit rather than against each other… I have a feeling that won’t be easy for either of us.” 

Silence greeted that statement and for nearly a minute, no one dared to speak, everyone was simply too stunned by what they’d heard.  Van was the first to recover from his shock and studied the albino for a long moment, weighing his words carefully, understanding the peace offering which was being made and how much it likely cost the other teenager.

“Will you be able to stay in control of yourself?”  He asked, careful to keep any accusing tone out of his voice.  It wasn’t a foolish question though it earned an amused chuckle from Dilandau who was back to staring at his swirling wine.

“Honestly?  I don’t know.  That’s why I want to practice in controlled circumstances; preferably when Schezar is here.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’s pulled me off of you.” It sounded like he was attempting to make a joke, only no one laughed, not even himself.

“If we’re going with honestly then I have to say that I feel like we’re taking a serious risk every time you get into a guymelef.” Van continued, still sounding cautious as he watched Dilandau, studying his reactions carefully.  Rather than throwing a tantrum or issuing threats, Dilandau simply nodded his head thoughtfully and took another sip of wine.

“I know.”  He murmured softly.  “At the end of the war… I was unbalanced, insane and as much a danger to my own men as to my enemy.  I realize that now… but I don’t feel like that anymore.  I feel…”  He paused thoughtfully, a slight smile playing across his face.  “I feel balanced, in a way I haven’t since Miguel died.”

“You did a lot of horrible things before that happened.”  The king grumbled resentfully, earning himself a rather predatory grin from his nemesis.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I give you the impression that I was a nice person before you helped murder my lover?  No.  I’m the same vicious murderous monster I always was, I just feel more in control of myself than before.”   Dilandau frowned slightly, unable to properly articulate how torn he’d felt.  How his psyche had been pulled in so many directions until all that was left was a sort of vicious paranoia which had filled his every waking moment.  It had made him a nightmare to deal with and in hindsight, he was surprised that his men had continued to follow him.  In his pain and turmoil, he’d taken his frustrations out on them ruthlessly until eventually; he’d driven them all to their deaths.

Again he closed his eyes, hearing the echoes of their screams tear through the walls of his mind, only this time it wasn’t accompanied by the welcoming chill of their presence.   The feeling of wrongness brought by Van’s proximity grated on him, urging him to tear his enemy apart, to burn him until the marrow bubbled in his bones and his screams became the soft hiss of hungry flames.  Only then would he find peace… only then would the screaming stop.

A gentle touch on his shoulder pulled him out of his downward spiral and he spun around, knife in his hand only to see Gaddes standing there next to him, concern filling his handsome face.  Well then…It seemed he wasn’t as sane as he felt, pity.  He’d almost gotten his hopes up there.

“You’re bleeding.”  The crewman said gently, somehow managing to not look at all worried about the knife poised inches from his throat.  Dilandau blinked at him in confusion and then looked down at his hand, seeing that he’d crushed the wineglass between his fingers.

“It’s nothing.”  He snapped, pulling himself away from the warm touch which seemed to call to him, urging him to relax and simply trust this man with all that he was.  Thankfully, his pride was saved by long years of paranoia and harsh lessons.  Dropping the ruined glass in a nearby bin, he stalked off to the bathroom to tend to his wounds.  In his haste to leave, he failed to notice the three pairs of eyes which met in confusion, none sure what had set off this bout of temper.

Thankfully, none of the wounds were deep enough to require stitches.  Instead, he managed to locate a small first aid kit of sorts beneath the sink and quickly bound his hand with a few thin strips of gauze.  It didn’t look pretty, but maybe he’d be able to acquire some gloves before he had to meet the Court.  At least it wouldn’t interfere with his holding a sword.  Still, it was stupid.  Only an idiot damages their dominant hand.  He could have done some serious injury to himself, rendering him useless for the coming war.

A discreet knock at the door made him glance up from where he was sitting on the edge of the tub, staring at the small crimson stains soaking through the gauze.  Gaddes stood at the door, a faint look of concern on his face.

“You alright in here?”  He asked gently as he stepped into the room.  Dilandau leaned back and sighed softly, running his uninjured hand through his hair.

“I might have to amputate, but I can struggle through the blood loss for now.”  The albino dredged up a faint smile as he held out his hand for inspection, wiggling his fingers almost playfully.    “I’ll be fine Fanelian, don’t worry.”  To his surprise, Gaddes walked up to him and bestowed a gentle kiss on his lips before cupping his chin in his dark calloused hand.  The touch felt surprisingly nice and he found himself nuzzling the warm skin and practically purring in pleasure.  While he did stop the nuzzling with that realization, he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away.

“I was meaning what happened before.”  Gaddes murmured, smiling a little wider at the unintentional display of affection.  “What was that about?”

“It’s nothing.”  Dilandau grumbled softly, loathing how juvenile he sounded at that moment.  “I lost myself for a few seconds.  All I could feel was how close Van was, I heard my Slayers screaming… the usual.”  Though he tried to make it all sound casual, the effect was somewhat ruined by his inability to meet those dark grey eyes of his lover.  It made him feel weak and pathetic, two sensations he loathed and his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“I’ll get over it, I always do.”

“If you’re not ready for this, we can come up with something else to appease King Aston.”  Gaddes pressed, earning himself a dark look from the young captain.  At the very idea that he couldn’t achieve a goal he’d set for himself, Dilandau stood up, his eyes glittering with challenge.

“I don’t need to be coddled Fanelian.  I’m a soldier and I will follow my orders.  Failure is never an acceptable option.”  He was the perfect soldier dammit, what were a few bad feelings and audio hallucinations?  He’d waded through oceans of blood and fire without flinching.  There was no way an easy assignment like this was going to stop him!

“Is it time to go?”  He found himself asking imperiously, brushing aside his inner turmoil and burying it down deep in the morass of his mind.  For a moment, it looked as if Gaddes was going to argue with him, or gods of Gaea forbid, talk about his feelings.  Instead, the man gave him a faint smile and leaned forward to steal another chaste kiss.

“Nah, the Royal Tailor is here with some clothes for you.  The man is already getting on my nerves, so I’m going to ask for your knives and your sword before you go out there.”  He held out his hand expectantly, earning a faint chuckle from the dragonslayer.

“You seriously think that I’m going to disarm so soon after getting my weapons back?”

“You seriously think that I’m going to let you stab that effete prick who thinks that because he has a needle and tape measure that he’s Jeture’s gift to fashion?  Hand them over kid.  I’ll make it worth your while tonight.”  That statement earned Gaddes a faint smile and chuckle as Dilandau raised a rather skeptical looking eyebrow.

“You will will you?  I thought you still had to worry about all of those stitches holding your side shut.”

“My mouth and my hands still work just fine.  Hand them over.” 

“Only your hands and mouth?  That sounds disappointing.” 

“Fine, be celibate Mr. Sixteen years old with an abundant sex drive.”  Damn, he sort of had him there.  Making sure to frown appropriately, Dilandau handed over his knives before slowly unbuckling his sword, taking his time and flashing the crewman a wicked smile as he did so.  Those delicious grey eyes were fixed on the movements of his hands, as well as other choice locations and the teenager revelled in the feeling of power it gave him.  Perhaps disarming wasn’t quite so bad after all.

“Did you want to make sure I got all of them?”  He asked playfully, holding up his sword belt boldly, his tone full of challenge.  There was something deeply satisfying about seeing Gaddes lick his lips with desire before visibly pulling himself back.

“Believe me kid, I want to more than words can say, but the tailor is waiting and after that we have Court.”

“You are definitely going to make it worth my while tonight Fanelian.”  Dilandau warned with mock severity before tangling his fingers in Gaddes’ hair and pulling him down into a deep searing kiss.  He drank in the essence of the older man as his tongue possessively explored that lovely mouth, making it clear that they were far from finished.

A teasing bite on the man’s lower lip signalled the end of the kiss as Dilandau pulled away, his crimson eyes smoldering with barely restrained desire.  Work work work, it was as if the universe was conspiring to keep him from having fun.

“I’ll see this tailor then.”  He murmured, releasing his grip on Gaddes’ hair.  “Though, if he annoys me, I reserve the right to beat him senseless.” 

“That was not the deal!”  Gaddes sputtered, reaching out to grab onto the albino before he headed out the door, but he wasn’t fast enough and ended up cursing the empty bathroom before quickly heading out to watch the show. 

Ten minutes in, he had to admit that it was rather amusing watching the feared Dragonslayer captain biting his lip to keep from tearing a strip off of the self-important man as he chided the teenager for the seventh time to stand still while he made adjustments to the waistcoat he was fitting. 

It was hard to believe that barely more than two weeks ago, he’d watched Dilandau sort through clothes on the Crusade and been bored out of his mind.  Now he was enjoying every moment of watching the teenager be turned into a giant living doll for the arrogant tailor.   At least the man didn’t seem to care who it was he was fitting the clothes for.  He was far more concerned with finding colours which complimented the pale youth and was rather vocal about the gross failure of his pigmentation. 

“Ugh, must you continue to demand such bold colours?  Red and black make you appear so pale.”

“I’m a bloody albino you inbred moron!  Everything makes me look pale!”

“Perhaps a lovely pastel blue, or a rose!  Yes, rose would help bring colour to your cheeks and take away that distressing shade of your eyes.” 

Gaddes found it helpful to stand close to his lover, quickly divesting him of a hidden knife before the youth could drive it into the tailors heart… repeatedly.  The man was so engrossed with sorting through a collection of rather pretty pastel silks that he didn’t even notice his near imminent death.

“Er… let’s stick to bold colours.”  Gaddes stated calmly, giving Dilandau a warning glare to behave.  “And no puffed sleeved blouses, it won’t end well.”  He added to the tailor in a soft voice.  “He hates those with a passion.”  Honestly, you’d think he’d suggested murdering the king the way the man reacted.

In the end, it was Palos who offered a rather full wineglass to Dilandau that finally calmed the situation and got the brat to relax enough to let the man do his job.  It only had to be filled three times over the course of the fittings, though Dilandau would have likely wanted more, Gaddes wasn’t going to risk having him attend Court drunk.

By the end of the ordeal, Dilandau had three outfits to wear to court, two casual outfits for daily wear, a handful for training, and the promise of several finer garments by the end of the week.  He was also supplied with a long elegant cloak of brilliant crimson to wear into court for his introduction.  It of course had a wonderfully deep hood so that no one would recognize him until it was too late for them to protest the King’s decision.

As much as Gaddes disliked the tailor, he had to admit that the man was remarkably good at his job.  The kid looked amazing as he stood there in a beautifully cut long black jacket which perfectly displayed his slender body to its best advantage. The cut was eerily similar to the altered zaibach uniform favoured by Folken after his defection, though far more utilitarian in style than the fallen Strategos’.  The blouse beneath was silvery white, much like his hair and of a simple design, lacking the laced crevettes favoured in court or any other ostentatious flare.

It suited him well and not even the brat seemed able to voice a complaint as he preened happily in front of the full length mirror he’d found on the inner door of his wardrobe. 

“Ae you actually going to wear that outfit?”  Palos nervously asked once the tailor had left.  The messenger couldn’t quite keep from cringing as he eyed the ensemble critically.

“Yes I’m wearing it.  What’s the problem?”  Dilandau grumbled as he fussed slightly with his hair, making a mental note to acquire a new diadem or something of that nature to keep his hair out of his face.  For the moment, he’d settled on simply pulling it back, wishing he had a chance to get a proper haircut.  It was growing far too long for his personal taste, though he did have to admit that it did frame his face in a rather lovely fashion.

“Well… black is such an ominous colour… and the pastels really would suit your complexion better…”  Palos’ voice trailed off as he noticed the rather narrowed eyed look he was receiving.   Van simply rolled his eyes and opened the balcony door he was standing by a little wider.  The room had grown uncomfortably warm ever since Dilandau had tossed the night robe into the fireplace and lit it. 

“He means that you look like a Zaibach noble.”  Van yawned, hardly concerned about the whole deal with clothes.  So long as his were clean and mended, that was all he cared about.  “You should be trying to appear more Astorian if you want to fit in.  You certainly fuss in front of a mirror like one.”  Gaddes quickly swallowed a snicker, but not before he was also favoured with a dark glare before Dilandau turned back to Van.

“I’m not going to hide who I am. King Aston might try to hide my name, but everyone knows it, so why should I pretend to be something I’m not?  I’m proud to be Zaibach.”

“Oh of course.  I’m sure that it has nothing to do with the fact that you enjoying getting a rise out of people?”  Gaddes asked, smirking slightly as he openly admired the work of art who was currently grinning widely at him in utterly false innocence.

“It honestly never crossed my mind.”  Dilandau replied primly.  “Now pass me my weapons, I feel unbalanced without my sword.”  He held out a black gloved hand expectantly towards Gaddes who glanced somewhat resignedly at the weapons in question.  He really didn’t want to be the one to break the news to the brat that he was going to likely be forgoing his favourite killing toys for the rest of the night.

“Why do you think you need a sword?”  The Fanelian king made a point of adjusting his own as he spoke, enjoying his elevated status over the Dragonslayer.  “You know it will just be confiscated the instant you step into the Great Hall.”  Dilandau froze at his words, his hand still held out as he struggled against the other teenager’s logic.    Seeing the hesitation, Van continued on happily.  “Seeing as how it’s obviously a Zaibach blade, the guards likely won’t take the best care of it either.  You’ll do better with just a knife in your belt until King Aston decides otherwise.” 

While the albino glared at Van, Gaddes mouthed a silent _thank you_ to him.  He’d learned from experience that Dilandau would happily circumvent or simply blatantly ignore any rule he didn’t immediately agree with.  Van’s words however made perfect sense, and the threat of damage to his precious sword seemed to cut through his usual stubborn nature rather effectively. 

In order to keep the peace as well as he could, Gaddes made a point to unfasten his own sword belt and place it carefully on the table next to Dilandau’s.  Having worn one for most of his adult life, it was hard to set it aside, especially while in a somewhat hostile situation.  He found it easy to empathise with the kid who likely had never been without his weapon in his life.  Even as he checked his own outfit quickly to ensure that it wasn’t filthy or overly wrinkled, he noticed the furtive and longing glances the kid gave his weapon. 

“It’ll be safe here.”  He murmured, hoping to be comforting.  In compensation, he handed over the two knifes, one for Dilandau’s boot, the other for his belt.  “Promise me you won’t stab anyone with these?”

“Only an idiot makes a promise like that.”  The knives were quickly placed in their respective sheaths and Dilandau seemed to relax slightly though the longing glances continued.  Gaddes was almost starting to feel jealous of the damn weapon.

 

“What proof do you have that Basram of all nations is planning such an attack?”  General Ivernus Malenchamp puffed himself up as he glared at the Fanelian king who stood in the center of the room.  “These accusations are wholly unfounded and are clearly an attempt of Fanelia to garner additional support for the coming months.”  Several other high ranking politicians and military officials nodded their heads, scattered applause backing their words.  Though loud, the posturing of the general wasn’t supported by everyone.  Enough of the gathered nobles remembered the last time they scoffed at the warnings of impending war.  Even more remembered that it had come from those closely affiliated with the young king.

“All of the proof I could present to you would no doubt be cast aside as circumstantial General.”  Van managed to grind out, biting back his anger with obvious effort.  “What I can say beyond a doubt is that I have spoken with Hitomi and she has confirmed this.  Basram is raising an army and has elicited the help of rogue Zaibach sorcerers to create mystically altered soldiers.  They plan to prey on the combined weaknesses of all of our countries as we recover from the war and seize control of Gaea once and for all.”

“Those are rather bold claims.”  Lord Dandus spoke up, idly twisting his long moustache in feigned amusement. “Where is the young Lady?  While none of us deny her gifts as a seer, I unfortunately… fail to see her.”  He glanced around the room in an exaggerated fashion before giving the young king a sly look.

“She’s still on the Mystic Moon.”  Van was forced to concede.  “We speak mentally with each other.”  It was difficult to refrain from turning to look at King Aston for support and he couldn’t help but wonder what the scheming old man was up to with his silence.

“Ah,” The Lord smiled indulgently.  “So again, we have only your word.”

“The worth of the King of Fanelia’s word has been established long ago as being one of the most sound on Gaea.”  Dryden spoke up, his voice confident and relaxed.  “Must the Crown remind the Court of the price paid when warnings were ignored in the past?”

“Basram suffered the least amount of damage from the Destiny war.”  General Teatame spoke up, giving his rival, General Malenchamp a cold look.  “Their damn bomb all but obliterated the bulk of the forces of not only Zaibach, but the Allies as well.  My sources have also reported an increase of activity along their borders.”

“Merely settling in and protecting their resources against opportunistic bandits.”  General Malenchamp huffed.  “If we begin to act in a hostile fashion, it will be tantamount to declaring war.  Your Highness, we cannot afford such actions.”

“We also cannot afford inaction!”  Van shot in, furious that such simple concepts seemed to be incomprehensible to the Astorian Court.  Fanelian politics was so much simpler, if an enemy threatened, they were swiftly dealt with.

“And what actions will Fanelia take, King Fanel?”  The irate general demanded, crossing his arms over his ample chest.  “Your country was obliterated.  You have no standing army and no defences other than the dragons which infest your valley.”

“I have Escaflowne.”  Van stated levelly.  “And I pledge it to the service of stopping this war.”  A single guymelef, but one which held as much symbolism as it did power.  Within only a few colours, the Legend of the White Dragon had become known across all corners of Gaea and tales of his adventures, both real and imagined featured in more songs and stories than he wanted to think about.  Pledging his allegiance carried a great deal of weight and he saw more than one pair of eyes glitter with avarice.

Seeing the shift of the mood in the room, King Aston seized on the moment he’d been waiting for and leaned forward slightly.  It was a subtle motion, but immediately captured the attention of everyone present.

“Having Escaflowne pledged to the service of this upcoming war is a huge step forward for us, and make no mistake, I have no doubt that we are in the looming shadow of such a war and are ill prepared to deal with it.  However, simply having the legendary guymelef on our side will not be enough if these soldiers created by the Zaibach sorcerers take the field.  We’ve all seen the damage that only one of their creations has caused during the Destiny war.  According to the Visions of the Lady Kanzaki Hitomi, there will be seven of them.

With this in mind, I have solicited the aid of an expert on not only these rogue sorcerers, but their disgusting project as well.”  He motioned towards the door which two Knights Caeli promptly opened, revealing a slender figure draped in a long crimson cloak, the hood pulled low to obscure their face. 

Though Van knew exactly who it was now boldly striding into the court, he couldn’t quite resist stiffening slightly, his hand straying towards his sword.  With effort, he forced his hands behind his back, willing himself to remain still, knowing that many of the nobles assembled here would be studying his reaction once their identity was revealed.

The figure moved with predatory grace, walking without hesitation up to the foot of the throne before kneeling in a smooth motion.  Gaddes and Palos flanked him, standing a pace behind and knelt as well.

“King Grava Aston, I pledge my services to you for the duration of the war.  My sword and my skills are yours to use as you please.”  There was a murmur of unease at the apparent youthfulness of the speaker’s voice though none had recognized it yet.  Few of the nobles had ever come in contact with the young warlord and those who had likely only heard him screaming out in bloodlust.  Even Van had a hard time placing the cold soft voice with the hot tempered warrior.

“Will you pledge to work alongside King Fanel and Escaflowne?”

“I do.”

“Will you follow the laws of this land and defend it as your own?”

“For the duration of this war I will.  Afterwards, we renegotiate.”  That drew a low murmur from the crowd at the sheer audacity of the statement and many began quietly speculating who exactly this was. 

Van risked a glance over at the outspoken General Malenchamp who appeared to be putting two and two together and was growing rather red in the face.  Thankfully, the man didn’t dare interrupt the king in full court and was helpless to prevent what was unfolding.

“Then let it be known that in exchange for your full cooperation you will be under probation for the duration of the war, to receive a full pardon upon the Allied victory.  You will work under and report to Sir Allen Schezar of the Knights Caeli.  Until then, you will always be accompanied by either King Fanel a member of the Crusade crew, or a Knight Caeli.  Failure to do so will result in your immediate apprehension.  Is that understood?”

“It is King Aston.”

“Then rise Lord Dilandau Schezar and be recognized by the Court of Astoria.”

For a moment there was utter silence as the crimson cloaked figure stood up and pulled back the hood, revealing that unique silvery white hair, alabaster skin and smoldering crimson eyes of the infamous warlord.  His beautiful face was utterly impassive, betraying none of his emotions though his eyes blazed with challenge, daring anyone to dispute his right to stand before them.  Behind him, Gaddes and Palos both rose, nervously watching the stunned crowd, ready to deal with the expected uproar.

Uproar it seemed was an understatement.  The instant the crowd shook themselves out of their shock, the yelling began.  Calls for blood were the loudest, followed by accusations of treachery and Zaibach plots.  Several of the boldest actually took steps towards the young warrior, blinded by the need to avenge the many losses of their country at his hands, or at least appear so.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!”  King Aston bellowed in a voice loud enough to shake the walls and was easily heard above the yelling of the court.  “I have made my decision for the betterment of Astoria and it is final.”  His cold grey eyes glared at those gathered beneath him.  Say what you would about King Aston, he knew how to stand up to his court.  Despite the many resentful glares, no one dared step forward to challenge him.

“We require first hand information on these vile sorcerers as well as their projects and Lord Schezar has offered to do so.  He’s also offered to train a new battalion of pilots for use with the Alseides units we confiscated from the Zaibach Empire disarmament.  It is my decree that he should aid in rebuilding and protecting the country he caused so much damage to during the war.”

“But… but Your Highness… a Lord?  Lord Schezar?”  One of the nobles, a tall and almost painfully thin duke sputtered, shooting the pale teenager a look of loathing.  “What claim has he to a noble house of Astoria?”

“It has been proven without a doubt that he is indeed a direct descendant of that bloodline, a trueborn son of the Lady Encia and Lord Leon Schezar.  It has also been confirmed by Sir Allen himself.  Dilandau Schezar is the twin brother of the Lady Celena and was taken as a babe by the Zaibach Empire and raised as one of their own, unaware of his noble heritage until recently.  Once he discovered his proper lineage, he then naturally offered to aid us with the coming war.”

Aware of all eyes on him, Dilandau struggled to keep a straight face even though his stomach churned in disgust at the rewriting of his history to suit Astorian propaganda.  Oh how he wanted nothing more than to tear that wretched king apart and bask in his screams.  Instead, he made his masters proud and stood there expressionlessly, letting the hateful words flow over him.  He appeared to be barely aware of anything happening around him until someone grabbed his arm, spinning around into a hand raised to strike his face.

Acting on instinct, he blocked the blow with one hand, his other snapping into action and driving his palm up into the side of the jaw of his attacker.  The man dropped to the floor heavily and there were several sharp cries of alarm as the Knights Caeli immediately snapped to attention, two moving between the King and the court, the others stepping forward to isolate the threat.

Dilandau found himself standing over the unconscious body of General Malenchamp, glaring at the downed man before Gaddes quickly got between them, forestalling any possible follow up attacks.

“You good?”  He quickly asked the young captain… er… lord, preying to Jeture that the kid was still in control of himself.  Dilandau shot his fallen adversary a look of utter contempt and nodded his head.

“Ah, I see you’ve met General Malenchamp.”  Dryden strode over, flanked by a Knight Caeli who looked far more concerned than the heir did.  “You’ll be reporting to him, once he wakes up.”

“How is that man a general when he couldn’t block a simple strike to the face!?”  Dilandau sputtered, unable to remain silent.  “General Adelphos would have tossed me into a wall before letting me hit him like that!”  Granted, his former general wouldn’t have simply walked up to him and struck at him for no reason either.  Was everyone in the Astorian military morons?  Already he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of his bargain with the king.

“I… er… I don’t believe he was expecting you to actually punch him back.”  Dryden admitted somewhat sheepishly, unable to sound wholly disapproving at seeing the foolish blowhard dropped so easily.  So much for his grand claims of martial prowess.

“Of course I’d hit him back!”  By now, Dilandau was thoroughly confused by how things were playing out and he glanced at Gaddes for advice.  All the crewman could do was give him an apologetic shrug.  Court politics and etiquette were well beyond his understanding.  It was Palos who stepped forward; taking a deep breath as he surveyed the mess which threatened to grow worse the more upset Dilandau grew.

“I believe the good general was about to challenge you to a duel.”  He stated as calmly as he could, uneasy with how close the pale demon’s hand was to his belt knife.  Pausing for a moment, the albino glanced over at the messenger and raised a silvery eyebrow.

“A duel? Why the fuck would he slap me then?  That’s the stupidest way to duel I’ve ever heard of!”  Realizing that the violence wasn’t about to continue, the rest of the court calmed down somewhat though few backed away.  All were far too interested in how this would play out, and were eager to see some form of justice brought against their hated enemy.

“Don’t they duel like civilized people in Zaibach?”  Sneered a nearby noble, not daring to approach but more than happy to spew his venom from out of reach.  “Or do you just butcher those you disagree with?” 

Rather than back down, Dilandau met the sneer with one of his own, crossing his arms over his chest and all but daring the outspoken noble to step forward.

“In Zaibach a general wouldn’t lower themselves with dueling a captain, they would simply give an order and expect obedience.”  He shot back.  “But if this man wants to die on the point of my sword, I won’t stop him.  I only hope he fights better than he slaps.  That was pathetic.”

“Jeture, you’re gonna get us lynched.”  Gaddes murmured softly.  “Seriously kid, stop making things worse.”

“I find myself agreeing with Gaddes.”  Palos warned.  “You do understand the concept of diplomacy don’t you?”

“I was defending myself!”  Dilandau shot back arrogantly then looked down at the general who was being helped to his feet by two nobles.  They seemed to struggle under the man’s weight but kept any grumbling to themselves.  As for the general himself, he still appeared to be quite unconscious.

“I would say that any duel he had in mind will likely be postponed.”  Dryden mused absently.  “Thank you for showing restraint Lord Schezar.  I’m sure that came as quite a shock to you.”  Though he sounded every bit as vapid as he pretended to be, the look he shot Dilandau warned him to take the opening being given to him.

“Yes…I wasn’t expecting an attack in the middle of court, in the presence of the King.”  The dragonslayer replied through gritted teeth.  He then looked over at the rather angry looking crowd and smiled arrogantly, unable to quite help himself.  “Though if anyone else would like to duel, please let me know?  I seem to have time available tonight seeing as how my current opponent is out of sorts.” 

There was the audible sound of an open palm hitting a face and Gaddes was rather sure that it was Van burying his head in his hands.  At least King Aston looked thoroughly amused and so far hadn’t stepped in to stop this mess.

“My name is Lord Maximillian Gantress and I’ll duel you, Zaibach dog.”  A handsome young nobleman stepped forward.  His lean frame was clad in deep blue silk which contrasted wonderfully with his creamy white blouse.  The outfit was cut similarly to a Knight Caeli without being glaringly obvious about it and the man’s long blond hair certainly reminded him of Schezar.  Sharp blue eyes were several shades darker than the knights however and his features weren’t quite as beautifully refined.

“Oh good, are you going to try to slap me as well? Or shall we simply move straight to the killing?”  Dilandau grinned, more than eager to run this cheap Allen knockoff through before burning his precious hair to ash.

“Lord Gantress,”   Dryden stepped in between the two young men, giving them both warning looks.  “You are the only heir of your line.  A fight to the death would be ill advised for your noble house.”

“I’m the only heir because this traitor murdered my brothers!”  Dilandau opened his mouth to no doubt say something scathingly insulting but Gaddes reached out and grabbed onto his arm, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Don’t you dare goad him.  You’ll set the entire court against you.”  He murmured into the albino’s ear, making sure his voice didn’t carry.

“So? The only Astorian to ever give me a bit of challenge was Schezar.  What do I care about these losers?”

“This isn’t Zaibach where you can just intimidate others into leaving you alone.”  Gaddes hissed.  “These are Astorian nobles, piss them off and they’ll poison your food and water, sabotage your equipment and send enough assassins after you that you’ll never get a wink of sleep.  Do you want to always be looking over your shoulder?  Or do you want to get your job done and kick some Basram ass?”

“… I love it when you talk dirty to me.”  Dilandau couldn’t help but grin.  “Alright, you win.  I won’t taunt the moron.”

“Your benevolence and wisdom have been noted.”

“If I might make a suggestion Your Majesty?”  Dilandau raised his voice and took a step forward, noting with some satisfaction how the knight by the heir stiffened at his movement.  Dryden nodded his head, allowing the young captain to continue while the hopeful duelist simply continued to attempt to murder Dilandau with the power of his loathing.

“I’ve killed enough Astorians in the war.  Seeing as how I’m on your side now, it would be stupid to add to it.”  The young captain stated in a voice loud enough to carry across the room with ease.  “So I suggest a compromise.”

“There will be no compromise!”  The noble hot head snarled.  “I want your life!”

“Oh shut up.”  Dryden grumbled, silencing the noble before welcoming Dilandau to continue to speak.

“Let Lord Gantress try to kill me if he can.  In return, I’ll settle for simply disarming him.”  It galled him to show any sort of mercy and all of his instincts screamed at him to be as ruthless as possible, to make an example of this arrogant little shit, but he knew that Gaddes was right.  No matter what happened, he was going to be looking over his shoulder constantly.  At least this way, he might win over an ally or two.  Ugh, how did Schezar love this chivalry and honour crap so much?

“You’re going to die.”  The lord snarled angrily, his hand already resting on the pommel of his sword.  In response, Dilandau simply yawned, not impressed in the least.

“Name the time and place, that’s how you do it here right?  I’m afraid I’ve only fought one duel on Astorian soil, but I have to admit, it was fun.”  This time he allowed himself a bloodthirsty smile, his eyes locked on the pale grey of his challengers.  Around him, he could hear the nervous murmurs as people began remembering how as a mere child, he’d bested their champion in a rather humiliating fashion. 

If this idiot lord had heard about it, he certainly wasn’t making the connection.  Instead, he drew himself up to his full height which honestly wasn’t much more than Dilandau’s and glared at the albino boldly.

“Now is as good a time as any.  I’ll avenge my family and still be on time for dinner.” 

Dilandau glanced over at Dryden, waiting for affirmation before making any commitment.  When the heir nodded his head, the young captain shrugged nonchalantly.

“Eh, it will give me something to talk about while I eat I suppose.  Are there rules I should know about?”

“I’ll stand as your second.”  Gaddes spoke up, suddenly drawing the attention of everyone in the room.  The crewman didn’t like how he could actually feel his fellow countrymen remembering that he had walked in with the young captain and were likely considering him to be little more than a traitor as well.  Rather than cringe under the combined weight of their animosity, Gaddes met their glares with pride.  He’d seen in the young captain a spirit worth respecting and honouring.  There was no way he was going to so much as waver in his support of his lover.

“I’ll be your second Max.”  A second young lord spoke up, obviously a friend of Lord Gantress judging by the warm smile of triumph the two men shared.  The newcomer turned to eye Gaddes coolly, a faint sneer pulling at his lips.

“So, we’re supposed to try to settle this without violence right?”  The crewman found himself asking, pretending to ignore the way the nobleman’s sneer grew at the sight of his simple clothing and lack of overzealous grooming.

“Indeed.”  Yeah, there was so much contempt put into that one word that it was actually rather impressive and Gaddes found his hackles rising despite his common sense.

“Your pal’s gonna get his ass kicked.  You know that right?”

“Why… you … you foul lowborn son of a servant!  How dare you treat this in such a callous manner!”  Gaddes turned away from the fuming nobleman with a shrug and looked at Dilandau who was positively beaming at him.

“I tried.  Irreconcilable differences and all that.  Looks like they have to fight.  Kick his ass.”  For a moment, he was pretty damn sure that Dilandau was about to kiss him right there in the middle of the Astorian court, and for once, Gaddes was almost hoping he’d do it.  Instead, the young captain’s innate dislike of public affection won out and he simply nodded his head, acknowledging the statement though his eyes continued to dance with mirth.

“Traitors and lowborn scum, they’re in good company.”  The crewman heard the other second murmur to his pal.  Unable to help himself, Gaddes spun around and grinned widely at the two noblemen.

“How about we sweeten the deal then?”  He was pretty sure that somewhere in the crowd, he heard Van murmur _“Oh gods of Gaea.”_ They had the attention of the entire room and Gaddes had to admit that the fleeting feeling of power he was experiencing was more than a little addictive.  No wonder Dilandau enjoyed causing trouble so much.  It was fun keeping people off balance.

“I propose a wager, since you’re so confident of your victory.”

“Only lowborn scum would besmirch the honour of a duel with betting.”

“Well you know, traitors and lowborn scum need to find their entertainment where they can get it.  Are you interested?  This is your chance to add further humiliation to the feared Captain Dilandau Albatou, the Crimson Demon of Zaibach.”  Of course, he didn’t bother mentioning that if the kid lost, he’d be dead.  It was the little details like that which angry people kept forgetting.

“When I win, I want him to kiss my boots publically and then give me his sword.  It will make a fine trophy for my wall.”  Lord Gantress drew himself up to his full height and sneered at Dilandau, radiating confidence.  The dragonslayer captain simply nodded his head, barely looking as if he was paying attention to the proceedings.  Gaddes hoped that he wasn’t quietly instructing his kill happy ghosts to simply rip the soul out of the moron.  That likely wouldn’t go over well at all.  In fact, it would likely be worse if the stupid lord actually tried to enforce the boot kissing thing.  He couldn’t imagine the dead Dragonslayers taking that at all well.

“And when I win.  You’ll owe me a favour, to be called in at a time and place of my choosing.”  Dilandau stated calmly.  All around them, the crewman could hear the indrawn breath at the possible implications.  Dryden looked honestly impressed at the clever offer and the lord’s second raised his head in alarm but before he could speak up, Lord Gantress shouted out his assent.

“Agreed.  I look forward to watching you shine my boots with your tongue.”

“The joke’s on you.  I know where my tongue has been.”  The young captain smirked then looked over at the heir.  “So, if I get to choose the weapons, I say sword.  I’m curious to see what the caliber of warriors the noble class of Astoria has, aside from my brother of course.”

For the first time, there was a glimmer of doubt in the noble’s eyes as he remembered that Allen Schezar was the best swordfighter in the land.  Worse, according to all of the stories, he and Dilandau had fought several times in battle during the war with no clear victor between them.  Granted, they’d never fought a duel to completion, but there were few men who could stand up to the youngest Knight Caeli and live to tell the tale.  Granted, fewer could say that of the Dragonslayer captain.  This was certainly going to be a learning experience for Lord Gantress, one he’d better appreciate.

“Very well then, with His Highnesses permission, might we adjourn Court in favour of the gardens?”  Dryden asked, bowing politely to the king and awaiting his final word on the matter.  All heads turned to face King Aston, their eyes hopeful and full of glee.  It wasn’t often one got to witness the hopeful defeat of such a hated enemy of the country. 

The king had watched the proceedings silently; waiting for the pale little demon to hang himself with the rope he’d been given.  Instead, the vile monster had somehow twisted it around to his advantage and now stood to profit well from an easy victory.  It seemed that as he’d realized earlier, Lord Folken wasn’t the only brains of their operation, merely the more emotionally mature of the duo. 

Aston had no doubt that the Zaibach teen would win the battle.  He was a well decorated war hardened soldier while his opponent was a spoiled nobleman who’d never once crossed blades in true life and death battle.  No doubt, history was about to be played out a second time, leaving Astoria embarrassed while Zaibach rose triumphant.  It didn’t matter that the little beast now claimed his Astorian roots; the king knew the truth and would feel the insult.  Still, to deny the duel would be boldly stating that he had no confidence in his nobles and he couldn’t risk that either.  No, he would play along and see what the monster was up to this time.

“May the blessings of Jeture be upon you both.”  He stated, giving assent to the duel before rising from his throne, allowing those gathered to depart and join the Courts Ladies out in the gardens.

As expected, the fairer half of the nobles all looked up from their embroidery and gossip with wide eyed curiosity as their menfolk exited the palace to join them, all of them looking jubilant.  Words of _Duel_ and _Zaibach traitor_ echoed through the air.  Gaddes heard Dilandau’s name several times as well as Schezar and knew that within a few minutes time word would have spread to all corners of the palace.  He hoped that the boss wasn’t too angry with them utterly shattering the whole secrecy plan.  So far it seemed to be working in their favour, but word would reach the ears of spies soon enough and their enemies would once again pinpoint their location.  At least it would be much harder to strike within the heart of the palace… he hoped.

The ladies chairs and stools were moved aside to make room for the duelists and a loose circle was formed so that all could watch.  Aston of course was soon seated on a portable throne which several servants brought out for him and Gaddes noticed Princess Millerna and Eries standing by his side.  He couldn’t help but flash Princess Millerna a somewhat guilty smile when she noticed him. 

Her wide blue eyes widened for a moment in shock then grew wider still as she took in the sight of his pale companion and he knew that she would likely corner him before the day was over with half a hundred questions that he wasn’t going to really want to answer.  Shortly after the younger princess noticed him, Princess Eries glanced over and unlike her sister, her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the proceedings with an air of mild disapproval.

Dryden strode boldly into the center of the circle and motioned for the two young nobles to join him on either side with their seconds.  Like the showman he was, he smiled widely and held out his hands, welcoming all to witness the duel, confident that it would be ended with as little death as possible.

“Your Royal Highness, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Court.  It seems that two young nobles have come to settle a dispute against them in which all other avenues have failed.  Lord Maximillian Gantress had challenged Lord Dilandau Schezar to a duel to the death.”  Several of the noblewomen gasped in horror and more than a few swooned at the mere prospect of blood being shed.  Millerna shot her husband a scathing look which actually caused him to fall silent for a moment and for the first time that day, actually look somewhat nervous.

“Ahem…” He gathered himself quickly.  “Lord Schezar has accepted Lord Gantress’ right to kill him though has claimed that for himself, he shall find satisfaction in a mere disarming.  The sword has been chosen as the weapon of honour and the blessings of Jeture are upon them both.  May they find satisfaction today.”  Now he turned to face the two combatants, motioning for them to take their places within the circle.

It was at about this time that both Dilandau and Gaddes realized a small flaw in their plan.

“I need my sword.”  Their eyes met and Gaddes really wanted to slap himself in the face for forgetting such a little detail.  Jeture, they looked like idiots now.  Knowing that he couldn’t leave the circle now that the duel had started, he instead turned to try to locate Palos in the crowd.  Dammit, where was that craven little pant wetting messenger?  Of course he wouldn’t be at the front, that was for the nobles of much higher birth than himself.  He’d be back around the outskirts, trying to jostle for a view with the lesser nobles and courtiers, too far away to be of any use.  Well, this was embarrassing.

“Use mine.”  The voice was so unexpected that it took Gaddes a moment to realize who had spoken.  Silence fell on the crowd as the King of Fanelia stepped forward and unfastened his sword belt.  As he held it up, no one seemed to know what to say, least of all Dilandau who stared at him in utter shock, unable to even move.

Van held his gaze boldly, the sheathed sword, symbol of the Fanelia Royal Family almost as much as Escaflowne was, held between them.

“You were right.  You’ve been acting like the hero while I’ve been the one sowing dissent between us despite you saving my life.  Hitomi said that only through forgiveness can we find peace and only in giving people an honest chance can they become who they were meant to be rather than what our perceptions force them to become.  In the past, you’ve caused my country more pain and suffering than anyone else on Gaea, but I understand now that you had little choice in that and now that you have been given your freedom, all you’ve done is fight to save those you once hated.”  Van swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing.  His voice was the only sound to be heard in the garden.

“We need to depend on each other if we’re going to survive what’s coming.  To do that, we need to trust each other.  You’ve offered to fight alongside Escaflowne and I can only imagine what that cost you to say.  In return, I will fight at your side, my sword is yours when you need it.”

For nearly a minute, no one moved or spoke, everyone gathered there watched enraptured, fully aware of the gravity of what was being offered.  For King Aston and Lord Dryden, it served to drive home the knowledge of just how dire their situation was, if such vicious enemies would be willing to put aside a grudge which had reduced more than one country to ash in order to fight against it.

Finally, Dilandau nodded his head, his eyes never leaving Van’s as he reached out his hand for the weapon.  As their hands met, both felt a chill pass through them, accompanied by the scent of crima metal and lemons.  The Dragonslayer smiled fondly and closed his eyes for a moment, listening to voices only he could hear, though for a moment, the young king could almost make out soft youthful laughter.  As he released his grip on his family sword, he felt a strange lightening of his spirit as some cold darkness was freed from inside his soul and allowed to drift away.  It felt like forgiveness.

“All I had to do was give you the damn sword and they’d leave me alone?”  He murmured softly, earning himself a slight smirk from the albino.

“Death’s made them a little weird.”  Dilandau replied with a shrug.  “I’ve decided that it’s best to listen to them.  I only wish I’d figured that one out before it was too late.”  He paused for a moment, glancing at the blade then at Van.  “Don’t try to apologize Van.  I can’t ever forgive you for taking them from me, but I understand that it was war.”

“I don’t forgive you for Fanelia either, but do you think that we can move forward from it all?”

“It doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice.  Either we move on, or we do Basram’s job for them… and I hate doing other people’s work.”

“Agreed.  Um… you know that I want the sword back when you’re done right?”  Dilandau actually laughed at that and drew the sword from its scabbard in a quick and silent draw, taking a moment to admire the blade and test its weight.  With a smile, he handed the scabbard back to Van and nodded his head.

“I like mine better, don’t worry.”  With that, he walked back into the center of the circle and smiled sweetly at his opponent.  “You’re about to get your ass kicked.”

As everyone was visibly shaking themselves out of their stunned awe over what they’d just witnessed, Gaddes leaned over to whisper in Dilandau’s ear.

“Careful, that was actually rational and mature of you.”

“I won’t make a habit of it.”  The crewman couldn’t quite bite back a chuckle at that before stepping back to give the two duelists room.  Dryden held out his hand and a servant gently placed a late blooming rose in his palm which he held up in the air.

“When the petals touch the ground, you may begin.”  He stated solemnly before tossing the flower into the air and stepping backwards.

Dilandau paid no attention to the flower, his focus was entirely on his opponent, drinking in every minute detail of his stance, his grip, the balance of his shoulders and the position of his feet.  Before the rose had even been released, he knew several ways to end this fight within the first exchange and was weighing a quick victory against a lesson in humility against his opponent.  An instant defeat wouldn’t drive home just how outclassed his enemy was the way drawing it out a little would, and there was the added bonus of amusing himself and the crowd.  Besides, he was supposed to win over these barbarians and everyone loved a good show.

When the rose landed on the stones between them, Lord Gantress lunged forward, hoping to catch his opponent off guard.  Dilandau lazily knocked the blade to the side with a simple twist of his sword, stepping to the side to avoid the lord’s overextension. 

“Too eager.”  He murmured softly.  “There’s a difference between committing to the attack and simply begging your enemy to kill you.”  To demonstrate, he brought his sword around and lightly tapped the back of the man’s neck with the flat of the blade, nipping off several long locks of hair in the process.

Gantress was quick to recover and he twisted around, swinging his sword out across the waist, using the power of his turn with the attack but Dilandau was already moving and stepped into the swing.  Raising his arms, he dropped the point of his sword so that its length was flush against his arm as he drove himself against his opponent, stunning him.  While Gantress had the heavier build, he was caught off balance by the suddenly bold move and the impact of the steel striking his arm stunned him as well as stopping him in mid motion.

Grinning, Dilandau grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it backwards as he pivoted, forcing his opponent’s guard wide open before stepping in with a side strike of his own.  Ordinarily, the attack would have opened the man’s belly, spilling his innards all across the lovely stones, likely staining the shoe of many a maiden.  Instead, Dilandau used the flat of his blade, settling for bruising his opponent’s ribs as he stepped through the attack and spun, bringing his sword back into a ready position.

Despite the mercy the dragonslayer was showing, Lord Gantress didn’t seem to be particularly moved and his face was contorted with a look of raw fury as he charged aggressively, swinging his sword in a low arch, hoping to get beneath Dilandau’s guard.  There was no subtlety in the attack and Dilandau casually knocked it aside contemptuously, delivering a sharp rap to the back of his enemies hand with the flat of his blade.

“You’re not planning your attacks well.”  He chided the noble.  “Let them flow together and stop trying to cut me in half with every strike.  You’re fighting a man, not a guymelef.”  Several people chuckled nervously, beginning to realize that this duel to the death was quickly becoming a sparring lesson.  One which Lord Gantress would feel for some time afterwards.

“This is a duel! Not a sword lesson!”

“Are you sure?  Because you seem to be rather lacking in that area…”

“I will kill you to avenge the honour of my brothers!”  Lord Gantress all but screamed at him and Dilandau finally decided that he’d had enough.  Knocking his opponents sword hand wide, he stepped well into the man’s guard.  A quick pommel slam to the face stunned him while the young captain neatly hooked their heels and gave a little twist, sending the noble to the ground hard.  Before the fool could react, Dilandau placed his foot on the man’s wrist, trapping the sword against the ground while his own blade was casually placed against the flushed line of the lord’s throat.

“I’m only going to say this once.  It doesn’t matter how many bards tales you’ve heard; a noble cause won’t grant you the victory no matter how pure your heart is.  The only truth here is that your brothers crossed blades with me in battle and they died.  It was war, and war is merciless.”  It was hard to resist the urge to press his blade a little harder, to see the sweet blossom of crimson stain the stupid cravat at his throat and teach this moron what true battle was like… and true loss.  Granted, Van might be a little upset if he used the Fanelian Royal Blade for cold blooded murder.

“I’m not afraid to die!”  Lord Gantress spat furiously, tugging at Dilandau’s leg with his free hand, attempting to knock him over.  Instead, Dilandau simply twisted his foot slightly, pressing down on a pressure point in the wrist and making the man writhe in agony.

“You aren’t are you?  Have you ever actually been in a battle?  A real one?”  Dilandau leaned forward a little, studying his prey with predatory interest.  “Have you been deafened by the clash of steel against steel?  Had the hot blood of your allies splashed across your face while your sweat mingled with that of your enemy, blinding you?  Have you seen your reflection in the blade of your would be killer and known that you were moments away from death?  Do you know that perfect pure instant where everything reaches that finite point of clarity and you know without a doubt that in your next breath, either you, or your enemy will be dead?

“I was born for that moment Lord Maximillian Gantress.  I live in that point where the madness of battle meets the cold clear final crescendo of death.  I might have been the villain in the war, but you’re certainly no hero.  Your brothers fought for their lives and for their destiny.  You just fight for pride and say it’s in their name.  You insult their memory.”  Dilandau sneered and stepped back, removing his blade from the man’s throat and releasing his wrist.

“Cross blades again with me over such a pathetic excuse and I’ll slit your throat before you realize what happened.  This duel is finished.”    He watched at the beaten man slowly sat up and smiled in amusement as his opponent briefly considered attempting to attack him again, only to reconsider the notion when his second shot him a warning look.

Taking another step back, ensuring he was out of range just in case the lord decided to become suicidal, Dilandau turned and held out the sword to Van, bowing minutely in respect as he extended his arms, presenting the weapon properly.  It was rather galling to do it, but if Van could handle lending him his family’s sword, he could return the gesture.

“Thanks for the sword.”

“Thanks for not murdering him.”

“Blood’s a bitch to get out of silk, and this is a nice jacket.”  He watched as the Fanelian king struggled with choosing whether to be offended or not by the statement before finally choosing to simply nod his head slightly.

Gaddes slipped over to them both and gave Dilandau a hearty pat on the back, grinning widely from ear to ear and looking proud beyond words at the conduct of the Dragonslayer captain.  He was the only one to do so. 

The crowd milled about, unsure as to what to do in this sort of situation.  Normally well-wishers would stop and congratulate the victor on a duel well fought while others would compliment him on the show of mercy or skill in arms.  However none wished to be seen speaking to the hated captain despite the open support of their king.  He’d beaten one of their own soundly and fairly in front of all of them and that didn’t sit well with anyone.  In fact, several made a show of offering aid to the loser, casting dark looks in Dilandau’s direction.

“It doesn’t look like you made any friends with that stunt.”  Van observed dryly, giving his swords blade a quick inspection for damage before sheathing it.  “I doubt Lord Gantress is going to thanking you for embarrassing him so publically.”  Dilandau glanced over at him and gave a rather inelegant snort of utter contempt.

“Please tell me that that wasn’t a display of general Astorian swordsmanship.  I’m going to go insane trying to find warriors worthy of piloting the Alseides units.”  Crimson eyes glanced around the crowd, studying how people moved and held themselves, searching for someone who had that predatory air he wanted for his future pilots.  “I’m also dying for a decent sword fight.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fully capable of finding plenty of dueling partners.”  A young and womanly voice spoke up, bright with cheer… too bright.  Dilandau spun around warily, eying the pretty and overly feminine blond who was approaching.  Wide blue eyes studied him guilelessly and a lovely smile graced her delicate lips.  She moved with the airy grace of a royal, perfectly assured of her place at the top of the proverbial food chain and while she looked and acted wholly unafraid, Dilandau couldn’t help but notice the tension in her shoulders.  Hmmm, not so emptyheaded then.

“May I present the Princess Millerna Aston-Fassa.”  Gaddes quickly stated, giving his future queen a polite bow, looking at her in open admiration.  “Future Queen of Astoria.”

“I know who she is.”  Dilandau muttered under his breath, not wanting to admit that up until the crewman had introduced her, he hadn’t been too sure.  “You weren’t at court earlier.”  He stated in a louder voice, giving the princess a polite bow of his head and refraining from adding in the honorific, curious to see how far he could push this particular royal.  Schezar had made mention of her once or twice in the past, though he seemed to prefer whining about her older sister.  From what he remembered hearing, the girl was a stereotypical Astorian royal; Spineless, pretty and more interested in romance than reality.  It was enough to turn one’s stomach really.

“No, you wouldn’t have.”  She muttered softly, the faintest edge to her otherwise honey sweet voice.  “Father believes that a woman’s place is not in politics.  She should remain a lovely ornament who only speaks when it is pleasing to hear.  That’s something that will be changing once my husband and I ascend to the throne.”  Her openness surprised the young captain and he knew that it must have shown on his face though neither Van nor Gaddes seemed overly shocked by the statement.

“There might be hope for this country yet.”  He allowed himself a slight smile, giving the princess a nod of approval whether she cared or not for his opinion.

“You might very well be the only man to say so.”  Millerna smiled in amusement, her eyes lowering demurely, but not before the dragonslayer saw the sharp light of intelligence glittering in their azure depths.

“Oh don’t get him started on equality of the sexes.”  Gaddes cut in, rolling his eyes rather exaggeratingly.  “He’ll go on and on about women warriors and the backwards customs of us barbarian countries for hours if you let him.”

“Hardly hours Fanelian.” 

“Course you didn’t exactly have any girls in your little boys club either, so that’s sort of hypocritical of you to harp on us about it.”  Gaddes continued blithely, enjoying needling his lover whenever he could get away with it.  Before Dilandau could reply with a likely scathing reply, the princess cut in neatly, guiding them away from the mingling nobles in the garden.

“I believe I would enjoy hearing of this.”  The princess stated softly, motioning for their group to join her as she walked.  “The Zaibach equality policies.”  She clarified with a smile as polite gasps of shock rose up behind her from her assortment of handmaidens.  None of them seemed willing to believe that their precious princess would dare to speak of such things with a monster such as the albino.

“Ah, I see you’ve met my lovely wife.”  Dryden appeared at her side, smiling widely at the group.  “Whatever she’s said, I support wholeheartedly.  By the way, that was one of the more unorthodox duels I’ve ever seen Lord Schezar.”  He chuckled, pretending not to notice how Dilandau winced slightly at the name given to him.

“I prefer being referred to as Lord Dilandau or Captain Albatou.”  The albino replied through gritted teeth.  “Last names are earned through hard work, exemplary military service and are bestowed on us by the Emperor Himself.  At least… that’s how it was before the war ended.”   He corrected himself, inwardly loathing that the damn king had stripped him of that precious honour.  “Besides…hearing the name Lord Schezar makes me think that people are addressing my brother.”  He added, doing his best to sound relaxed with the whole thing, ignoring the slight look of concern Gaddes was shooting him.

“King Aston’s word is law, that’s your title now, but I’m sure we can be flexible when not being official.”  Dryden stated easily, glancing over at the princess who simply nodded her head.

“I have to admit, it’s certainly unexpected to be speaking to you.” She stated as they stepped into a large and elegant rose hedge maze, their escorts keeping a polite distance behind them.  “But a pleasure nonetheless.  The Lady Celena is a good friend of mine.”  Her smiled was gentle and knowing as she looked at Dilandau, the tone of her voice making it clear that she was fully aware of their relation to each other.

“Dornkirk’s curly beard, does everyone know about that?”  Dilandau couldn’t help but grumble, earning a faint snicker from Van.

“Popping out of an enemy guymelef during battle with breasts certainly didn’t help your secret.”  He stated, enjoying the other boys discomfiture and he ignored the glare of death shot in his direction.

“Noticed my tits did you?”  The Dragonslayer shot back without missing a beat.  “Tsk tsk Van, Schezar’s little sister…”  Now it was the kings turn to blush hotly as Millerna coughed delicately, reminding the bickering teenagers who they were with.

“Prince Folken Fanel explained what he could about your… unique situation.” She clarified.  “At least as much as he knew, which was precious little.”

“Folken wasn’t to be trusted, he likely knew more than he said on any given subject.  He loved hoarding knowledge.”  Dilandau couldn’t help but grumble.  “And no offence Princess, but I hope you’re not expecting me to join you for afternoon tea to discuss embroidery or whatever it is proper Astorian women do.  Celena is gone and likely not coming back.”  He didn’t bother to add that she wouldn’t be back if he had any say in the matter.  It was unnecessary and likely understood.  Oddly enough, he took little enjoyment out of seeing the princesses smile falter over his news.  A flash of grief flickered across her face, but it was quickly hidden behind a politely neutral mask which Folken himself would have been proud of.

“I wouldn’t expect you to Lord Dilandau.”  She stated, there wasn’t quite as much warmth in her voice as before, but her use of his proper title implied that she hadn’t pulled completely away.  “However, I would still wish to get to know you, aside from the stories of course.  One sided tales are rarely generous to the other.  You’re as much a part of my dear friend as she was.”

“We’re nothing alike.  We don’t even look the same.”  He knew that he should be trying to win over the princess, she was practically handing herself over to him, but it still galled him to be around anyone who might look at him and see that terrified waif of a girl rather than the powerful and vicious warrior he was.

“You’re a different side of the same soul Lord Dilandau.”  Millerna replied calmly.  “A darker side, most assuredly, but still the same soul.” 

At her words, the young captain stopped walking, rage burning in his eyes as he glared at her.  His hands were clenched tightly into fists, shaking as they pressed tightly against his thighs.  He’d never been so insulted in his life!  He had nothing of her inside him, they shared nothing but some spare genetic material.  That was it!  Only… only the little girl in his dreams said otherwise… she knew what he was thinking, and as much as he wanted to pretend it wasn’t so, he’d been drawn to that clearing in the woods because she’d seen it.  There was a link between them, a disgusting and despised link, but denying it wouldn’t make it go away.

“I’m not her.”  He growled quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Rather than back away, the princess looked at him calmly, a hint of her previous warmth colouring her lips.

“No, you’re not.  You’re clearly your own person.  But tell me then, why did you appear back in Palas rather than Zaibach?  Surely that would have been the better strategic choice.”

Crimson eyes met azure as he glared at her heatedly for a long moment, refusing to turn away.  Behind them, the two Knights Caeli assigned to protect the next generation of leaders tensed, expecting an attack.  Finally, Dilandau was the one to turn away, realizing that he honestly didn’t have a valid argument for that.  Twice now he’d run back to Palas without realizing it.  Denying that she had a point was… well, pointless.

“You’re more clever than most would give you credit for Princess.”  He stated somewhat grudgingly, studying her with new eyes.  He had a feeling that this woman would make an interesting soldier if her circumstances were different.  Pity that she was a royal, and even suggesting she hop into a guymelef would likely earn him a slow execution.

“If you ever want to learn how to fight, let me know.  I’d love to see how you handled a guymelef or a sword.”  It’s not like he had ever been good at resisting his impulses.  Besides, he was too valuable a pawn to be executed at this moment.  Both Van and Dryden make choking noises at his suggestion, the Heir actually growing several shades paler as he struggled not to picture his delicate wife commanding a Zaibach war machine.  Gaddes simply stared at the Dragonslayer, utterly speechless, his jaw hanging open in shock.

Princess Millerna simply smiled and gave her head a polite nod, looking quite amused at his bold suggestion.

“Thank you Lord Dilandau, I shall keep your offer in mind.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Dilandau isn't happy unless he's kicking over an anthill... then setting it on fire. He also has a rather bad habit of punching out generals... he should look into that.
> 
> Next Chapter!! Training begins! Answers are sought and just when you thought their lives couldn't get complicated enough, the bar gets raised.


	25. Better to Sweat in Training...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dilandau begins training his future guymelef pilots... and Astoria certainly isn't ready for his style of teaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne, blah blah, not making money, just wanting to torture the characters blah blah don't sue.  
> It's been a fun month, had a memorial for my friend, took my Level 2 first aid course and caught bronchitis... writing while trying to cough out a lung suuuucks. I don't recommend it. On the up side, I got a lot of reading done... on the down side, didn't get much writing done. blah.

“Lovely, a bright sunny day and an open courtyard.  The king hates me.”  Dilandau grumbled softly, glaring at the cloudless sky as if it had personally offended him.  He could already feel pressure building behind his eyes as he struggled not to squint, refusing to let anyone see how desperately he hated the sun which beat down ruthlessly on them all.  He gave himself maybe half an hour before he had a full blown migraine and less before his skin was burned and peeling, even with the layer of cream he’d put on his exposed flesh this morning.  If he was lucky, he might manage to escape sunstroke. 

Walking up and down the ranks of assembled men, Gaddes glanced over in his general direction as if sensing his unease.  Quickly flagged down a young page boy, he murmured softly to him, sending the youth racing off towards the castle proper.  Dilandau didn’t catch all of it, but he did manage to make out “Water”.  Bless the man for his forethought.  He’d be sure to make it up to him later.

 “Are you really sure that this is a good idea?”  Van asked in a low voice as he leaned against a nearby tree off to Dilandau’s side.  Palos stood nervously next to him, torn between eyeing the assembled ranks of astorian knights and the pale arrogant warlord who was idly tapping the pommel of his sword, crimson eyes glittering with disgust.

“Well, I was before I realized that these idiots would be dressing for high friggin court.  Is that man wearing a cravat!?  Who the hell wears a bloody cravat to training?”  Dilandau blinked a few times, then rubbed his eyes for good measure, but the lacy nightmare continued to stay wound around the offending soldier’s collar.  For the first time since making his bold claim of molding a new army for King Aston, he began to doubt himself.  It was like being surrounded by a score of Schezars… only without the sword skill to back up the pompousness. 

“This is Astoria, if you aren’t going to look good doing something, there’s no point in doing it.”  Van replied smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and earning himself a somewhat scandalized look from Palos.

 “Admit it.  You might have bitten off more than you can chew.”  The king couldn’t quite resist the gloating smile which spread across his face at the idea of the impending defeat of his nemesis.

“I don’t recall ever caring about your opinion.  Besides, who are you to criticise fashion.  You only own one damn shirt and pants.”

“See what I’m talking about?  Your inner Astorian is showing.”

“Oh I will gut you like a pig Fanel.”  There wasn’t much rancor in the threat, the captain was clearly still too stunned by what he was looking at to be properly offended.  “Why are you even here?  Don’t you have king stuff to do?”

“And miss this?”

“Dreadfully sorry King Aston, it appears that King Fanel fell upon my sword… repeatedly… then set himself on fire.”

“If you were going to kill me, you’d have tried it by now… and I emphasize the _tried._ You don’t exactly have the best track record in that area.”

“…and then he was stepped on by a guymelef… terrible tragedy.”   Dilandau continued without missing a beat, though he did give his hand an odd little flick and twist.  It was an action he’d seen the dragonslayer do previously, usually to the amusement of Gaddes.

“Look, I’m just saying that while I’m sure you’re considered to be a brilliant leader in Zaibach, this is Astoria.  You need to understand that they do things differently here…. For one thing, they’re sane.”

“Do I ask you if you know how to do your job?”  Dilandau shot back, the barest edge of a sneer on his lips.  Thankfully, there was very little bite behind the words though that didn’t stop the king from bristling.

“You burned my country to the ground.  I would say that was a rather scathing critique on my ability to rule.”

“I didn’t burn all of it.”  The albino replied with a slight shrug, not sounding at all apologetic.  “Just the parts with people in it.” 

Off to the side, Palos groaned softly and shook his head, fully expecting to see the two teenagers throw their truce aside and openly attack each other in full view of the Astorian army.  Nervously, he looked around for Gaddes, hoping that the older man would be able to stop them before the barbs began to actually draw blood. 

While he’d never actually seen the two of them fight each other, he could only imagine how devastating that would be… guymelefs or no guymelefs.

It was with no small amount of relief that the messenger stepped forward to greet the approaching sergeant who it seems had just finished double checking the roll call.  One look at the rather harried man and Gaddes knew exactly what was going on in the ten minutes he’d left the two teenagers unsupervised.  Naturally, both were so wrapped up in throwing barbs at each other that they failed to notice his approach.

“You know, I find myself wondering more and more if you’re an asshole on purpose, or if it’s simply your natural state of being?” Van all but growled, earning a wide and rather vicious looking smirk from the albino.  Sighing, Gaddes once again stepped between them, keeping his expression and stance perfectly casual, as if this scene was nothing out of the ordinary.  It wouldn’t’ do for the men to see their leader snarking it out with the king of Fanelia.

“Dilandau, stop baiting Van.  Van, stop letting him get under your skin.”  Glancing at both of them in turn, Gaddes, kept his thumbs tucked insolently into the loops of his belt and fought back an indulgent smile as the two brats shot each other dark glares but backed off for the moment.

Van spared the man a long look, not missing the sparkle in his eye or the rather patronizing grin on his face.  Gaddes was looking surprisingly good humoured for a man who’d gotten up before the crack of dawn.  The cause of the cheery mood was something he was rather sure he didn’t want to ponder too deeply.  The reason would most likely make him blush… or cringe.  Possibly both.

“It looks like everyone’s here and I have them lined up according to the list.”  A sheet of paper was held out to Dilandau who took it and gave it a quick glance. 

“Anyone worth mentioning amongst our fashion divas or did the king give me the expected cast offs and superfluous sons of spoiled nobles?” Despite the annoyed tone of voice, there was no hiding the trace of eagerness in his eyes.  He always did enjoy a challenge after all. 

Van watched the interactions between the two, still somewhat shocked over the sense of easy comradery between them both, especially considering the fact that mere moments ago, Dilandau had been snarling like an angry cat.  Even though he knew the relationship between the two men, it still boggled his mind to think of the bane of his existence being pleasant to anyone.  What was worse was that this comfortable banter was something Van had never really had a chance to experience.  Even with Allen there was always the shadow of rank overshadowing them… not to mention the age gap and the rivalry for Hitomi’s affections.  Granted, the age difference was the same between Gaddes and Dilandau… and it didn’t seem to be bothering either of them.   

Ugh, he was NOT going to be jealous of the psychotic lab rat!  He could make friends if he really wanted to!   He just had other priorities!  Like rebuilding his country, and being king-like… and… he was pretty sure there were other reasons as well… Dammit, it just wasn’t fair.  He was the war hero, so why was the villain the one chatting away happily with Gaddes and training an army? 

“Not really, you were right about what he’d send you.  Second and third sons mostly with a few bastards thrown in for good measure.”    Both men seemed to be oblivious to Van’s internal turmoil as they continued to look at the list with critical eyes.

“Keep an eye on sir Mornstron and sir Alectes, second row, third and fourth down.  They were kicked out of the city guards for insubordination two colours ago.”  Palos interjected, sounding almost apologetic for stepping in on something that clearly wasn’t his business.   He’d slipped forward and looked over their shoulders at the list, curious to see which houses were trying to move their way up the social ladder and which ones were attempting to fortify their position by adding a guymelef pilot to their familial ranks.  This was a once in a lifetime opportunity after all, and the noble houses would be foolish to squander it.

Rather than having those cruel, inhuman eyes strip the flesh from his bones for daring to speak out of turn, Dilandau simply glanced over in the direction of the two rather surly looking knights, sizing them up quickly before looking back down at the sheet.

“These two?”  A slender pale finger lightly tapped the names he’d mentioned, seeking confirmation, making the messenger remember that written Astorian was likely not the captain’s forte.  “Noted.  I can work with insubordination, that’s easy enough to beat out of someone.  Half of these men don’t look like they’ve ever had to work a day in their spoiled little lives.”  He shook his head in exasperation, snowy white hair falling into his face haphazardly.  “Friggin lace and cravats… unbelievable.”

“They probably haven’t.”  The messenger found himself replying, warming to the familiarity of gossip despite the identities of the other participants.  While he wasn’t quite sure what the problem was with the various chosen outfits of the knights, he knew that the captain’s disgust wasn’t faked. 

“I know several of them in passing and most were simply trained to be scholars or to help handle their older brother’s households.  What with the number of hereditary guymelefs that were destroyed in the war and the loss of a good portion of the noble heirs, they’re hoping to prove themselves as knights and pilot guymelefs in order to regain lost prestige.”  He shrugged slightly as he explained, studying the assembled ranks of men.  It wouldn’t surprise him at all to see a brother or two amongst the men.  House Varinth wouldn’t be the exception to this opportunity.  His father would be slavering at the very thought of the prestige that could be theirs. 

Looking at the list once again, he finally found two familiar names.  Danith and Ulos, were located near the back of the fifth row.  A quick glance in their direction showed him their cold glares as their gazes met.  No doubt they were thinking him to be some sort of traitor by standing up front with the pale captain… utterly ignoring the fact that they were placing themselves under the same man’s command.  Hypocrisy was pretty much the family motto these days.  He could still feel the cool weight of the gem in his pant pocket, reminding him that he had little room to talk in those regards.

“Well, let’s go inspect this sorry lot.”  Dilandau huffed, flashing them all a bright grin of challenge before leaving the comfort of the trees shade and strutting towards the assembled knights with his trademark casual arrogance.  Both Van and Gaddes flashed each other identical looks of trepidation before hurrying after him.

“You do realize that you likely killed family members of most of these men.”  Van couldn’t help but murmur, earning himself a rather smug smirk from Dilandau.

“Most likely.”  He admitted without concern.  “I bet I can teach these runts how to put up a better fight.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  The king sighed, shooting Gaddes a somewhat pleading look, hoping that he’d talk sense into the other teenager.  While Van had no opposition towards seeing his nemesis be beaten down by the righteous wrath of the astorian knights, he was rather sure that many of the men assembled here would die in the process and honestly, he’d seen more than enough death to last a lifetime. 

“I know what you meant.”  Dilandau couldn’t help but roll his eyes slightly at the two shadows hovering behind him like overly concerned mother hens.  “I simply don’t care.  They’re welcome to attack me, it would be fun to remind them all of their place.” 

Once again, the two men exchanged nervous looks, making sure to keep their hands close to their swords.  Unable to do much to intervene, Palos trailed behind the group, quill poised above his own paper, ready to jot down any notes the young captain might wish to make on the assembled knights.

“Good morning Gentlemen.”  Dilandau stated as he stood in front of the assembled knights, his voice carrying easily across the courtyard.  Crimson eyes travelled along the line of men, cold and calculating.  “It’s good to see that you’ve all chosen to dress formally for the occasion.”  The scorn was heavy in his voice.  “Those of you who were on the fire brigade might remember me from my last visit to Astoria.  I congratulate you on your efforts; you did a fine job of keeping the city intact… mostly.  Those of you who claim to have met me on the battlefield, and you know who you are; stop embarrassing yourself.  Only two men have survived facing me in battle and they’re not currently lined up with you.”  Pale lips curled up in a cruel sneer as he watched many of the men stiffen, their eyes filled with righteous anger as they all glared at the young warlord.

“Kid… intentionally pissing off a rather large group of armed knights likely isn’t the best strategy you’ve ever come up with.  Just saying…”  Gaddes eyed the assembled group warily, knowing without a doubt that at least one of them was going to attack the instant he got a chance. 

“With a welcome speech like that, how did you ever become a captain?”  Van murmured, not sure if he should be offended or awed by the sheer arrogance he was seeing displayed in his nemesis.  “Try to keep in mind that if you incite a riot and get killed, you won’t be able to fight in the war.” 

Naturally, their warnings were utterly ignored as Dilandau brazenly stepped closer to the knights, hand resting insolently on his cocked hip as he radiated every ounce of Zaibach superiority that was packed into his slender frame. 

Unable to stop what was clearly the opening salvo in a tirade, Gaddes chose instead to clench his jaw shut and keep a close eye on the tall blond in the second row who looked ready to draw steel the instant the captain came within reach.  A shorter square jawed brunette standing behind him appeared about ready to follow suit.

“While you are training under me, you will refer to me as Lord Dilandau though I will also accept Captain, your Lordship and Sir.  Anyone who addresses me in a less than respectful fashion will find themselves walking to the infirmary with broken legs.  Is that understood?”  Add three more people to the list of those wanting to murder the brat in cold blood.

As he spoke, he walked along the length of the first row, casually eyeing each man as he walked past and offering himself up as a tempting target for attack.  Gaddes was rather sure that he was going to have an ulcer by the end of the day. 

Even as he watched, the brat sidled over to a surprisingly dark haired knight with brilliant blue eyes and a rather fancy bundle of lace piled just below his throat.  Smiling brightly in a way that Gaddes didn’t trust for a moment, the youth reached out and lightly toyed with the delicate edge of the frill.

“That’s really pretty.  What’s it called?”  He asked in a tone of voice which could only be called flirty.  Just hearing it aimed at another man made Gaddes grit his teeth, more so when the man seemed to preen at the attention, no doubt believing that he was earning favour with a superior.

“It’s a jabot.”  He replied happily, sparing a gloating look at the men standing near him.  “The lace is imported from Ezgardia, my father owns a shipping company that travels regu-”  Words seemed to fail the unfortunate man as he found himself suddenly flying through the air as the young captain tightened his grip on the lacy noose, tossing the knight over his back.  He hit the ground hard and lay there for a long moment, too stunned to move.

With almost lazy movements, Dilandau, who still had a hold of the jabot, drew one of his knives.  All it took was a smooth flick of his hand and he sliced the offending lace free from the man’s neck, crimson eyes never leaving shocked blue.

“Come to my drills again with a noose around your neck and I’ll strangle you with it.  Now get up.”  He growled softly before straightening up and looking at the assembled men.  Holding up his hand, he displayed his prize for all to see.

“Those of you wearing stupid frilly blouses, jabots of any sort or pretty fashionable scarves, get rid of them now.  You’re here to train to be guymelef pilots, not seduce maidens.”

“But…”  The man on the ground began to protest, affronted at the destruction of such a valuable piece of cloth.  A sharp glare and a rather menacing flick of the knife shut him up quickly enough.

“Sir…” A nearby knight cautiously hazarded, his eyes bouncing between the knife and the irate captain, unsure of which to focus on.  “We can’t disrobe… to bare so much flesh is unseemly in public.”

“Do I look like the sort of man who cares?”  Dilandau growled back, his voice somehow carrying to all corners of their training area.  “Either remove them or I will cut them from your bodies.  Anyone still wearing clothing that screams _please kill me_ will find me granting their request.”  He then shifted to glare at the knight who’d spoken up, his eyes narrowing dangerously.  “Never argue a direct order from me again if you value your continued health.”

“Noted sir.”  The knight nodded his head sharply and took a step back, obviously thoroughly cowed by the promise of death he saw in the depths of those inhuman eyes.

One by one, the gathered knights removed their shirts, their ties and various accoutrements.  None looked pleased about it, several seemed to be downright outraged, but no one argued any further.  Not that Gaddes thought they’d heard the end of it.  He just knew that this was going to come back and haunt them sooner rather than later.

“Did… did Dilandau just make a platoon of Astorian knights strip?”  Van stared in open mouthed shock, his voice little more than a stunned murmur.  Next to him, Gaddes could only nod his head, suddenly VERY glad that Allen wasn’t here to witness this.  Honestly, the sheer balls on the kid… it was as impressive as it was terrifying.

Within minutes, every man in the courtyard was shirtless save for Van, Gaddes, Dilandau and a young man halfway down the front row who looked utterly amused by the events so far.  The kid appeared to be around the same age as the captain and the look of utter hero worship on his pale face reminded Gaddes far too much of the Dragonslayers.

“Palos, who’s the kid who is staring at Dilandau like he hung the friggin moon?”  He murmured in the messenger’s direction.  Perking up and eager to be of use, Palos glanced over and blanched visibly.

“Er… ahem… that’s Lord Regis Falafell, son of the Zaibach ambassador.”

“…You’re fucking kidding me…”  He wanted to slap himself in the face so badly that it almost hurt.  What the hell was it with Zaibach thinking that the little psycho was a brilliant leader?  Surely the kid had to have heard what happened to his last team.  Alright… sure, Dilandau did know what he was talking about and was an amazing warrior… but still… alright, dammit, he just didn’t like how the kid was looking at his brat, he could admit it. 

“I’m actually rather surprised that the Ambassador is letting his son anywhere near Captain Albatou… er… Captain Schezar.”  The messenger mused softly to himself.  Sparing him a warning glance, Gaddes gave his head a little shake.

“It’s likely best if you don’t call him Schezar, he’s rather touchy about that… and he’s armed.”

“Yes… er… well… ahem…”

“Why wouldn’t the ambassador want his kid around the Captain?  I thought he was a hero back in Zaibach.”

“Well, you see, the Ambassador wasn’t a strong supporter of Zaibach’s past war effort and has been quite opposed of various figures who were rather overzealous during the war… such as our captain.  There are rumours of some sort of old personal or political grudge and well, after last night, I’m honestly surprised that the Captain is allowed to still carry a weapon.”  Palos couldn’t help but watch the sergeant warily as he spoke, fully aware that the man wouldn’t tolerate him speaking ill of the beast, no matter how well deserved.

Rather than be angry, Gaddes instead gave the messenger a look of utter confusion, making it obvious that he had somehow missed the latest gossip which had blazed through the servants ranks like wildfire.  Allowing himself a slight smile, fully aware that he was about to cause trouble for the bane of his existence, Palos launched into his tale with gusto.

“Well, it seemed that at dinner last night, Lord Dilandau was seated next to the Zaibach ambassador in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable.  What no one realized was that there was some sort of longstanding grudge between the two and they began arguing almost instantly.  I heard that they managed to keep it somewhat civil for the first few courses, but then the Ambassador said something which upset the captain and Lord Dilandau stabbed him.”

“He… he what?!”  Gaddes felt his heart actually stop at those words and he could just picture all of their careful work going to waste.  For a moment, all he knew was panic and he was fully ready to race over to his less than sane lover, snatch him up and prepare to fight for their lives against the furious guards who were no doubt on their way… any time now…

Nope… the guards seemed to still be calmly performing their duties, sure there were the odd dark glares aimed in Dilandau’s general direction, but nothing that would be expected if an ambassador had actually been stabbed during dinner.  Damn gossip.  You’d think he’d learn after spending so much time around Riom.

Clearly this story was exaggerated badly.  Sure, the Zaibach ambassador was likely not one of the most popular people in court, but no one was reviled enough that an attack on their person would be ignored… well, maybe one person. In fact, last night, said person had come sauntering back to the room all smug and proud of himself.  Alright, in hindsight, that likely was a warning sign that something violent had occurred, but somehow he’d gotten away with it.

Knowing that he wasn’t going to get the answers he was seeking from Palos, he did his best to motion Van over without being overtly obvious about it.  Thankfully Dilandau was otherwise occupied berating some poor knight about not tying back his long flowing hair and likely threatening to shave it all off.

“Van… what happened at the dinner last night?”  He asked quietly the instant the king was within whispering distance.  “I just heard the latest gossip and I’m rather sure that it’s been… exaggerated.  Tell me it’s been exaggerated.”

Judging by the dark look the king shot the Zaibach youth, it hadn’t been blown too far out of proportion and Gaddes mentally began to wonder why Jeture had deemed him so worthy of punishment as to have fallen for the pale captain.

“I was wondering when that would get back to you.”  He muttered.  “Honestly, I’d figured that he would have just told you, bragging about his latest act of wanton violence.  He seems to like those.”

“Enough with the sniping, just tell me what happened.”

“I wasn’t sitting near him when it happened, if you want the full story, you might want to ask his newest fan.”  The king motioned with his chin in the direction of Lord Falafell who was still staring at the captain like some star struck teenage girl.  Honestly, it was sickening.  “He saw the whole thing, not that he seems to be disapproving at all… seriously, is everyone from Zaibach crazy?  Because so far I haven’t met a single sane one.”

“Van?  Please!”  Gaddes winced at how desperate he sounded, but he really needed to know if he was going to be strangling the damn brat or rewarding his behavior tonight… and sadly it looked like strangling was in the lead.

“Fine… but I’d like it noted that once again, I find your choice in partners to be seriously lacking.”  The teenager couldn’t resist though finally relented at Gaddes’ reproachful glare.  “They seemed to be getting along well enough, well, as well as anyone actually gets along with Dilandau.  The two of them were biting at each other but keeping it more or less civil for the most part.  Something about them being from rival factions or something, Dilandau wasn’t overly clear on that when I asked him.”  Van shrugged slightly, hiding his curiosity easily enough.  He was used to not asking questions that he knew weren’t going to be answered.  Honestly, he was rather surprised that Gaddes didn’t already know more than he did.  Of course, chances were slim that the two men had spent their time discussing the Zaibach army… not that he was imagining what they did talk about.  That way lay madness as far as he was concerned.

“Anyway,” He continued after taking a moment to clear his throat… and his mind of unwanted mental images.  “Whatever they were talking about got a little heated and then the Ambassador said something about him not deserving to train a new team seeing as how he got his last one killed.”

“Oh Jeture…”  Gaddes rubbed his temples with his hands, perfectly able to picture how well that had gone over.

“Yeah… him and any other god you want to throw in there.  Without batting an eye, Dilandau stabbed the ambassador in the hand with his fork.  Then, while the guy was screaming and carrying on, he continued to eat his dinner as if nothing had happened... with the damn fork I might add.  He even went so far as to offer the ambassador’s son a chance to train and see if he could pilot one of those monstrosities.”

Jeture… no wonder he’d looked so smug last night, that was exactly the sort of chaos the brat thrived on. 

“How…”  Gaddes had to struggle to form the words through his elevated stress levels.  “How is Dilandau still walking around free?  That’s the sort of thing that should have gotten him thrown in the dungeons or banned from using cutlery or something.”

“I’m honestly not sure on that one.  The ambassador called off the guards before they could grab Dilandau, said that it had been a misunderstanding and that his fork had slipped.  No one believed him of course, especially with Dilandau acting all smug.  I’m pretty sure he said something to scare the man into silence, likely involving the continued health of his son or something.  That’s him in the front row staring at Dilandau like he was dinner… looks like you might have some competition.”

“So… the brat stabs the kid’s dad in front of him… threatens him, and he still shows up all eager to train?”  Gaddes stared at the youth in question, feeling something clench uncomfortably in his chest.  Van wasn’t exaggerating, the guy wasn’t even bothering to hide the look of worship he was shooting the young captain and Gaddes knew how responsive Dilandau was to having his ego stroked… amongst other things.  Worse, this new rival was young, handsome and far less likely to call Dilandau on his bullshit than Gaddes was.  If the brat was looking to replace his lost lovers within the Dragonslayers, this kid certainly was a prime candidate.

It was like someone had just punched him in the gut and likely showed on his face judging by the sympathetic look Van gave him.

“Hey… it’s not that bad… I’ve seen how he looks at you Gaddes.  You mean everything to him right now and I doubt he’s going to just dump you so he can go chasing after some spoiled nobles son.  Gods… I can’t believe I’m saying this…”  Van ran his hand over his face, wondering if the sun might actually be getting to him.  It had to be if he was actually speaking well of his nemesis.  “What you have between the two of you is special; he’d rather take another scar from me than lose you, especially over some fling.”  Granted, Van had to admit to himself that he knew practically nothing about the dragonslayer.  For all he knew, the guy might actually be the type to flit from one lover to another without care of consequence… actually, that sounded a lot like the Dilandau he knew.  Maybe he shouldn’t be trying to help out his friend. 

Honestly, Gaddes would be better off without being in a relationship with the pale monster.  The guy was trouble in every sense of the word, and it was only going to get worse once Allen found out about this.  Ugh, he didn’t even want to think about how that would go.  At the very least, the friendship between Gaddes and Allen would be shattered.  Blood feuds had been sparked over less, and he’d already seen how protective the knight was with his sibling.

“Yeah, well he doesn’t exactly have a good history of monogamy.”  Gaddes grumbled miserably, unable to take his eyes off of the young captain stalking up and down the ranks of the men.  His heart ached a little more with every beat as he watched Dilandau frowning critically at most of them and occasionally pausing long enough to dress down one who’d offended him by breathing the wrong way at the wrong time.

Van looked over at Gaddes, noting the utterly heartbroken look on the man’s face.  It was similar to the expressions he’d seen on the victims of the war as they watched their homes burned.  Right now, Gaddes’ world was shattering around him and it left the king momentarily speechless at the sheer power of the emotion.

“… You need to talk to him then.”  He found himself saying even as he inwardly kicked himself and wished that he could stay quiet.  Why was he doing this?   He didn’t owe that albino bastard anything, especially not happiness.  “Tell him how you feel.  Make sure he knows that you’re not the sort of guy who is ok with him waving his affections around like that.”  Dammit mouth!  Stop talking!!  If you stay quiet, Dilandau will likely ruin this like he ruins everything around him and Gaddes can go back to being his normal happy self!  Everything will be the way it’s supposed to be and things would start making sense again.

“But what if I’m not enough for him?  The kids got a sex drive like you wouldn’t believe, I can barely keep up with him half the time.”

“Ugh… I didn’t need to know that Gaddes.  Please, let me stay ignorant to the details of what you two do.”  Van shuddered visibly, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of either man doing anything amorous, especially with each other.  “Look.”  He sighed loudly, wishing he was anywhere but here.  “The way he looks at you… I’d have given anything to have Hitomi look at me like that.  You mean the world to him and you need to make sure he knows that you feel the same way.”

Uncomfortable with the subject, the king shifted his weight and fiddled with his sword belt, loathing all of this talk about feelings.  Of course, he couldn’t quite silence the little voice in his head which cruelly reminded him that if he’d been that open with Hitomi, if he’d told her how he’d felt from the beginning, if he’d fought a little harder for her to stay, that she’d be by his side rather than promised to another.  The loneliness in his heart was eating him up inside, and he loathed the idea of sitting back and letting someone else make the same mistake as he had… even if that someone was Dilandau Albatou.   Fate hated him.

“You’re right.”  Gaddes murmured softly, visibly drawing strength from the king’s words.  “I’m an adult, he’s an adult.  We can talk about this like adults!  Besides, he’s barely given that little homewrecker a second look.  Man, I never thought I’d see his obsessive focus as a good thing.”  The sergeant gave a nervous laugh.

“Thanks Van… I know it couldn’t have been easy to say all of that… but it helped.”  He grinned at his friend and Van found himself returning the smile, feeling the unacknowledged tension between them ease for the first time since their reunion.

“We’re all on the same side now right?”  He found himself saying.  “Besides, you’re a better at keeping him out of trouble than some star struck kid.”

“Yeah… look how good I am… standing here mooning like some lovelorn teenage girl while the actual damn teenager in the relationship picks a fight with a guy the size of a guymelef.”  Gaddes stated, sounding far too happy considering his choice in words.  Somewhat confused, Van followed the older man’s gaze and found himself swearing softly under his breath.

“I … I didn’t think they made Astorians that big…. He practically dwarfs Balgus!” 

The two men shared a long suffering glance with each other before hustling over to the site of the impending fight, hoping to get there in time to defuse it.

“You, get lost.”  Dilandau was glaring at the rather heavily muscled knight, not seeming to care that the man was three times his own weight and stood two full heads taller than the teenager.  Gaddes couldn’t help but swallow somewhat nervously as he hurried over, hoping that the brat wasn’t going to try to toss this man to the ground as well.  He didn’t look to be the sort who was easily cowed…. That and the man’s neck was the size of Gaddes’ thigh… both of them.

“What?”  Clearly the knight had never had anyone speak so casually to him before and before anyone could draw a breath, the sharp sound of an open palm striking flesh echoed across the courtyard. 

“I’ll bury him next to his mother…The Boss will like that.”  Gaddes murmured to himself, covering the last few feet at a run, screw dignity.  Granted, his own survival instincts were demanding that he be anywhere but here.  Clearly the kids were broken because he continued to glare up at the man as if he was dressing down the smallest of his dragonslayers.  Honestly, Gaddes was more than a little impressed that the kid could actually deliver a decent slap to someone that tall and the man in question looked rather shocked as well.

“That’s your one warning, address me without proper respect again and next time it will be my sword.  Now leave.  You’re too big and the Alseides will kill you the instant you flood the cockpit.”

Shock only stayed the man’s hand for so long and even as Gaddes watched, hand resting readily on his sword, the hulking knight reached for his own weapon until Dilandau’s words stopped him short.  Freezing mid motion, the knight stared down at the reckless youth, finding himself staring into those pitiless blood red eyes.

“If you wish to test your luck, then by all means stay and give it a try.  It’s always amusing to watch someone drown as liquid metal fills their lungs.  I could describe it for you if you want, though honestly, if you’re so intent on dying, I could suggest several less agonizing ways to go about it.”

Several surrounding men grew pale at those words, no doubt having heard about the previous deaths due to drowning in the deadly guymelefs.

“You’re lying.”  The man… sir Ortega according to Gaddes’ roster snarled accusingly, earning himself a rather bloodthirsty smile in return.

“Shall we find out?”  Dilandau asked sweetly before raising his voice so that everyone assembled in the courtyard could hear.  “Gentlemen, it seems that we’re about to have a live… for the moment, demonstration on proper safety protocols involving the ALS DS, more commonly known as the Alseides units.  Now as some of you are likely aware, in order to protect the pilots during manoeuvers, the cockpits of the units are commonly filled with crima fluid. 

“Regis, can you tell me what sort of danger this can represent?”  He didn’t bother to look in the direction of the other Zaibach youth.  He was confident that anyone who’d been educated in the Academy would be able to answer with ease.  He was not disappointed.

“Sir, the cockpit of the Alseides is a closed environment, offering a limited amount of space for the fluid to fill.  The first danger is always volume, overfilling will drown the pilot, forcing liquid metal into the lungs and other body cavities, bursting their internal organs.  The secondary danger is that should the volume be adjusted to allow for a larger pilot, the liquid metal will fail to provide a proper cushion during movement.  The pilot’s muscles will be torn and their bones shattered within minutes.  Tertiary danger is that the liquid metal is part of the environmental controls.  A fixed amount of liquid metal must be present in the cockpit to prevent lethal overheating.  Sir.” The youth’s voice was clear and confident, sounding more like he was addressing a respected teacher rather than a boy his own age.

Dilandau continued to hold Ortega’s glare with his own, not so much as a twitch showing that he’d heard the words of the other teenager.

“I have to run a check on all of the units anyway to ensure that Zaibach didn’t leave any little surprises for you inside the programming.  It’s no bother to let you try one on for size seeing as how you’re so keen to test your immortality and honestly, I think the look on your face when your guts burst open like overripe fruit would be hilarious to see.”  A slow cruel smile spread across his lips as Dilandau’s voice dropped to a soft purr of pleasure, no doubt already picturing the suffering the huge knight was about to endure. “Go ahead.  Entertain me.”

Part of Gaddes wanted to give the brat a good hard shake and order him to shut the hell up.  This wasn’t sane or acceptable behavior!  Another part of him however seemed to realize that in his own twisted way, the kid was saving the knights life.  Granted, he doubted that he’d ever be thanked for it, but that certainly sounded like a hellish way to die. 

Ortega seemed to think so too because the man’s tanned skin took on an ashen hue and he swallowed somewhat nervously, his pale eyes darting towards the guymelef sheds where his death awaited. 

Unconcerned, Dilandau actually turned away from the man he was bullying and let his cold glare slide slowly across the ranks of assembled knights.  If anyone had any doubts that this thin pale teenage had been the vicious monster behind the dreaded crimson guymelef, they saw the truth in those twin pits of hell and more than one brave man found himself unable to meet that gaze.

“Understand one simple fact here gentlemen.  I don’t care about any of you enough to lie to you.  If I tell you that something is too dangerous to do then I expect you to listen.  Those too stupid to listen to the wisdom of experience will find themselves dealing with the consequences of their bad decisions on their own.  Is that understood?” 

Several men murmured nervously, cowed by that force of that vicious personality but determined not to cower at the feet of their former enemy.

“I am not here to be your friend.”  Dilandau continued loudly.  “I’m not here to atone for my actions during the war or to ask any of you forgiveness for loved ones I struck down in battle.  If you’re here for the chance to fight me because of some delusion of honour then feel free to get in line and duel me like good little Astorian nobles.  If I’m feeling generous I might spare your lives.

“The King wants you to learn how to pilot Alseides guymelefs in order to strengthen Astoria’s army though I know that most of you are just here for the prestige that goes along with it.  Most of you will not make it through my training.  Know this.  Accept this, because I don’t care about your pride, your lineage or your social standing.  I’m here to train Alseides pilots and those who have the necessary natural skill to survive that training are few and far between.

“For those of you who I do pick; you will become one of the deadlierst fighting forces on the face of Gaea.  In or out of a guymelef, you will be lethal, warriors without peer and you will not only help raise Astoria up from the ashes of war, you’ll keep it there.”  He paused and looked around at the surrounding knights, eyes narrowing slightly as he began to walk the lines once more, allowing sir Ortega to decide his fate.

“Make no mistake gentlemen.  War is coming and those who survive my training will find themselves in a pivotal position in deciding its outcome.”  Several men watched the young warlord as he walked past, many of their hands tightening slightly as they all fought down the urge to attack the monster who’d been the one to bury so much of their country and it’s protectors in that very ash he’d mentioned. 

“I’ve seen what you people call training and honestly, I’m not impressed.  Those of you who stay in this courtyard will be expected to perform to my expectations and I can guarantee that the hate you have for me will pale in comparison to what you’ll feel for me in a weeks’ time.  I’m going to show you whole new worlds of pain and suffering and I will expect you to endure each and every order I give you without complaint.”

Both Gaddes and Van stared at the pale youth with open mouthed awe, feeling the power of the young warriors personality wash over them in palpable waves.  Ruthless, pitiless and uncompromising.  The kid was a force of nature made manifest in a slender youthful body, but neither of them had any doubt that Dilandau meant every single word he said.  More importantly that he was fully capable to seeing it all made into fact.  Not even reality itself could stand up to his force of will.  In fact, Van could almost see the ghosts of the Dragonslayers standing at attention behind their leader, their lifeless eyes burning with pride and fierce devotion.  The very air seemed to grow chill with their presence and he couldn’t quite repress a shiver of dread.

Gaddes could only gape in awe, wondering how he’d managed to win over such an elemental being.  His anger, his insecurity and even his endless frustration with the youth faded as he drank in that ferocity.  It was impossible not to feel that determination to win infuse his mind.  Dilandau wouldn’t back down from the task at hand.  He’d whip these soft and spoiled men into shape, he’d train them to be killers no matter the cost and he would revel in every moment of this upcoming war.  More importantly, Gaddes had no doubt that he’d be at the young warlord’s side through it all, and that realization buoyed him like nothing else could.

“Every drill, every scenario and every attack will be treated as if your life depended on it.  The instant I don’t think that you’re giving it everything you have; I will slit your throat and leave you in the dirt as an example to the others.   The strong don’t waste time on the weak and I don’t tolerate useless things.”  Dilandau continued, his voice strong and sure, well accustomed to giving incendiary speeches.

“If any of you don’t feel ready to sweat and bleed during training with me then I would strongly suggest that you leave right now and spare us all the annoyance of your existence.  The same goes-”

As he walked past a whip thin knight with long dark hair, the man’s face hardened and he grabbed for his sword.  Before it could even clear its sheath, Dilandau slammed the pommel of his own weapon down on the top of the man’s hand.  The wet crack of bone was heard throughout the courtyard, making several knights wince.

Before anyone could react, the captain drove his sword upwards, smashing the pommel into his attackers face, shattering teeth and tearing the man’s lips to shreds before taking a small step back.  In one smooth movement, he unsheathed his sword and slammed the flat of the blade down hard against the left side of the stunned man’s collarbone, driving him down to the ground with a second sickening crack of bone.  With one foot cruelly pinning the broken hand and the blade of his sword pressed against the supine form of the knight, Dilandau grinned down at him, bloodlust glittering in his eyes.

 “In Zaibach, the punishment for drawing steel on a superior is immediate execution.” 

“This is Astoria, not Zaibach!”  Van snapped; quick to step forward and ready to intervene if need be.  “He’s beaten Dilandau, killing him now is murder!”

“However will my conscience survive?”  The pale youth practically crooned, delighted with the attempt on his life.

“You agreed to abide by Astorian law.”  The young king pressed, preparing to attack if need be, unwilling to stand by and allow a man to be killed in front of him.  The idiot might have been wholly in the wrong for daring to attack the Zaibach teen in such a cowardly manner, but it wasn’t their place to decide his fate.  That was up to King Aston. 

Bristling visibly at being reminded of his vow, the albino grit his teeth, struggling to restrain his bloodlust.  Several bright beads of blood welled up against the point of his sword as it pressed a little more deeply into the soft throat of his opponent. 

All it would take was a little more pressure and the thin skin would split, spilling forth its treasure of bright coppery blood.  It would splash so beautifully over the neat and tidy stones of the courtyard and bake in the sun, a reminder to the others of the price for attacking the captain.   Just picturing that lovely spray of blood made him almost moan in pleasure and he pressed a little harder into the skin, thrilling at the look of terror on the face of his would be assassin. 

So easy… so satisfying… it had been too long since he’d claimed a life like this, since he’d felt hot blood splash across his hands.  Every fiber of his being called for it; demanded it with relentless power. 

A warm hand touched his shoulder, silencing the siren call of the bloodlust as it gently pulled him back out of his homicidal fugue.  The weight centered him, drew his attention away from the downed man and he blinked his eyes, slowly drawing his sword back from the knights bloody throat. 

“He’s not worth it and you know it.”  Gaddes murmured softly, giving the boys shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “Let him live to regret his actions.”

“I want to kill him.”  Dilandau found himself murmuring, still staring transfixed at the blood marking the man’s throat, wanting to see more, to bathe in it the way he used to. 

“You’ve already ruined him, let him live with the lesson.”  The sergeant repeated himself, desperately wanting to beat the downed man’s face in for daring to draw steel against the teenager.  The attack brought every protective urge in his body screaming to the forefront of his mind, but he pushed them down in order to focus on the young captain.  Revenge had already been meted out, the point had been made and he was pretty sure none of the other knights here were willing to risk maiming and dishonour in order to attempt revenge.

Still, he wasn’t the only one to take a deep breath of relief when Dilandau finally gave his sword a habitual flick to the side and then sheathed it with utter silence.

“Tch.”  The albino hissed in disgust at the broken man.  “Palos, get one of those useless guards to haul this waste of flesh away before his piss filled pants stink up the courtyard.”  The icy coldness of his voice had the messenger leaping into action and racing towards the ever lurking palace guards who had been watching from a safe distance, loathe to intercede.

“As for the rest of you.”  Dilandau looked up at the rest of the men in the courtyard, noting that now their expressions held an acceptable level of fear and wariness to go with their anger.   “Those who don’t think they can train or serve under me should leave now.  I have men to whip into shape and don’t need your precious egos and honour interrupting me.  This is your last chance to do so with impunity.” 

Gaddes found it surprising that no one took the opportunity to leave the group though neither Van nor Dilandau seemed at all shocked.  Still feeling like he was vibrating from the adrenaline still flooding his system, the sergeant fell into step behind the two teenagers as they once again continued to inspect the lines.  He couldn’t help but notice that most of the men kept their hands well away from their swords as the group walked past them.

“The law of Club and Fang, it never fails to entertain.” 

“How do you know about that?”  It was Van’s turn now to look shocked as he glanced over at the albino as if he was looking at a stranger.  Sparing him a quick glance, Dilandau shrugged minutely.

“I lived with a wolf clan for several colours when I was younger.”

“Where?  I didn’t think any of the beast clans accepted outsiders.”

“Iron Fang clan in Northern Zaibach, and they didn’t have much of a choice.”

That seemed to give Van a bit of a shock and he almost stumbled as he spun around to stare at the pale youth, aghast at the revelation.

“The Iron Fangs?  They’re vicious and insane!”

“Remind you of anyone you know?”  Gaddes could only continue to grit his teeth as the two teenagers bantered about what had to have been a singularly hellish experience for the albino.  Of course, taking into account the scars decorating the boy’s body, it likely wasn’t any worse than what he was enduring under the care of the sorcerers.  Jeture, it was enough to turn his stomach.  No wonder the kid had the ethical understanding of a rabid wolverine. 

Within twenty minutes, four more men had been cut from the group owing to their size, leaving them with twenty five men to deal with.  It was a daunting number as far as Gaddes was concerned though Dilandau simply smiled smugly.

“We’ll lose at least three more by the end of the day.  Just watch.”  He murmured, sounding utterly amused by the prospect before he raised his voice once again to address the assembled men.  “As I said, I’m not impressed at all with your physical training so as far as I’m concerned, you’re not even warmed up enough for standard drills.  I want all of you to run around the palace gardens to get your blood pumping.  Gaddes, you’ll follow behind them on a horse.  If anyone falls behind… whip them until they pick up speed.”  Several knights stiffened at this and all of them looked utterly outraged.

“You… you can’t do that!!”  The tall blond that Gaddes had been eyeing earlier stepped forward angrily, his green eyes blazing in righteous rage.  Rather than respond in kind, Dilandau simply placed his hands on his hips and turned to face the irate man.

“It never ceases to amaze me how people just beg me to punch them in the face.”  He drawled.  “Gaddes, what is the name of this suicidal moron?”  A quick check of the list revealed the name of the soon to be deceased.

“Sir Mallus, sir.”  It felt odd calling the brat by a respectful title as opposed to their usual exchanges of insulting names, but there was no way he was stupid enough to undermine Dilandau’s authority in public.  Lover or not, he’d be skinned alive.

“Sir Mallus of House Pontifox, son of chancellor-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who spawned you.”  Dilandau shot back, his voice hard and sharp as the blade at his hip.  “You rise and fall on your own merit with me Mallus and you earn that last name through your actions, not your blood.”  Mallus flinched at the tone as if he’d been slapped and opened his mouth, ready to protest again on the ill treatment being levied against their noble blood.  Dilandau wasn’t finished however and a cruel smile spread across his face.

“What your actions have earned you is a second lap around the grounds.  You have an hour and a half to do this and then I expect you to join the others in drills.”

“How dare you!  I will speak to my father and have you thrown in a cell for this insolence!”

“Don’t kill him.”  Gaddes murmured under his breath as Dilandau’s lips pressed into a thin line and he strode over to the arguing knight, his eyes glittering dangerously.  He didn’t even give the man a chance to prepare.  The instant he was within striking range, he drove his fist hard into Mallus’ gut, dropping him to his knees before grabbing onto the knights long and unbound hair.  A sharp ringing strike across the face ensured that everyone’s attention was fixed on them before pulling the man close enough that they were nose to nose.

“Did we forget our manners already?  Or would you like to make it three laps with a broken leg?”

“….sir….sorry sir.”  Mallus hissed softly, his cheek already visibly bruising from the blow.

“Louder.”

“I’m sorry sir!”

“My Dragonslayers were able to do that run over rough terrain in twenty minutes.  I expect astorian knights to be able to do it in at least twice that amount of time seeing as how they’re running on nice smooth manicured paths.  Is that too much for you Mallus?”  His voice dropped down to a low mocking purr as he lightly stroked the knight’s bruised cheek.

“N….no sir.”

“Good.  Gaddes, mount up and grab a whip.  If you go easy on them you’ll be joining them, stitches or no stitches.”  It was hard to keep from glaring at the brat, but he knew that this wasn’t something he was prepared to butt heads over.  If he was supposed to whip the slackers, then by Jeture, he was going to put some leather to tender noble skin.  What low born bastard brat didn’t dream of one day being in this position?  Oddly, it didn’t sound nearly appealing once it became reality.

“Will you be joining us Van?”  Releasing the knight who sagged to the ground in relief, Dilandau glanced over at the king, unable to keep the challenge from his voice.  As expected, Van bristled visibly.

“You intend to go for a jog with a group of armed men who want you dead?”  He clearly thought the brat was bluffing.  Obviously he didn’t know Dilandau all that well.

“Of course.  I never ask my soldiers to do something I’m not fully prepared to do myself.  I’ve already run the course once this morning and found it simple enough.  In fact, if any man can beat me in the run, I’ll personally serve them a nice cool glass of wine myself and give them a half hour breather to rest.”

“Does that include me?”

“I distinctly remember saying any man.  If you don’t fall into that category, do let me know… I had a bet going with Gatti.”

“No poisoning the wine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I look forward to you being my wine boy.”  Jeture, those two never stopped fighting each other.  At least neither showed any signs of drawing steel on the other.  Still, Gaddes didn’t dare take his eyes off of them as he carefully mounted his horse, loathing the fact that he needed a leg up to do so or risk pulling out the aforementioned stitches. 

Once he was properly seated, whip in hand and stern expression plastered on his face, Dilandau turned to look at the assembled men.

“Try to keep up gentlemen.”  Then he was off like a shot, moving at a much faster pace than their earlier morning jog.  For a moment, everyone stood there in shock, unable to fully process that he was dead serious about this challenge.  With a softly muttered curse, Van took off after him, legs pumping as he sprinted after his enemy, refusing to lose even this small battle and leaving Gaddes behind with the others.

Unable to keep a slight smile off of his face, the sergeant turned to glare at the stunned nobles.

“You heard the captain.  Get your asses in gear!”  He barked, well accustomed to giving orders after his years with the Crusade crew.  Though he did have to admit that giving the whip a sharp crack was certainly more than a little satisfying, especially when all of those soft and spoiled knights leaped forward.  It was going to be a very interesting forty minutes.

 

Four hours later, Gaddes was hating life.

Sure, chasing the gentry around and terrifying them with his whip was a nice warm memory that he was going to cherish forever, but he was quickly learning to loathe the brat for making him join them all in the endless drills.  Injury be damned, the kid wasn’t about to let him take it easy and Gaddes knew better than to ask for leniency.  If he wanted to keep the brats respect, he was going to damn well have to suffer for it apparently.  Well, two could play at that game and Gaddes swore to himself that he was going to go straight to bed after washing.  The kid could take care of his damn libido himself… the little bastard.

Sure, the pale devil had been generous enough to give him a lighter sword to work with, and allowed him to move at half the speed of the others, but it still hurt like hell and his body made it very clear that it wasn’t impressed with him.  Something which Gaddes made a point of passing on constantly in the form of heated glares.  Of course, the little sadist just seemed to be amused over the suffering of others and made no attempt to release Gaddes from his torment.

At least he wasn’t alone.  Van had nearly run himself into the ground trying to keep up with Dilandau’s long legged stride.  The kid might be in brilliant shape, but he clearly hadn’t made a habit of endurance running, especially at a full sprint for over ten miles.  Still, he’d beaten all of the astorians which was impressive all on its own, and even though he obviously wanted to do nothing more than fall over for the next few hours, the king had gamely drawn his sword and joined in the drills with the others, refusing to show any sort of weakness in front of his rival.

Two knights had bowed out three quarters of the way through the run.  One simply had fallen over in exhaustion while the other had dug in his heels at the threat of being whipped like some common criminal and had made it abundantly clear that if a hand was raised against him, he’d see the perpetrator hung.  After having grown up in the shadow of astorian nobles, Gaddes hadn’t dared raise the whip against the man, but he had made a point of striking the knight from the roster the instant they’d returned to the courtyard.

By the time the drills were over, Gaddes was just done.  Like the others, he was swaying on his feet, barely able to hold his sword up.  Several nearby knights took a moment to sneer at him, seeing his half pace drills and lighter sword as a weakness.  Thankfully, Gaddes had grown up having nobles sneering down at him and was able to ignore it. 

“You shouldn’t let them look at you like that.”  Dilandau grumbled over at Gaddes as he flicked his sweaty silvery white bangs out of his face.  The sergeant felt a slight flush of satisfaction at seeing that the kid actually could show signs of fatigue, granted, he’d run around the palace grounds twice now and taken the time to push each and every knight  through their drills with his usual ruthless determination.  Even Van was currently leaning against a tree and taking huge sips of water to replace the amount of sweat he’d shed this afternoon.

The last of the knights were currently dragging themselves out of the courtyard, their steps heavy with exhaustion and it as even money that many of them weren’t going to come back tomorrow, choosing to find easier ways to earn their families fortunes.  Few had even had the energy to put their shirts back on, opting instead to simply drape their fancy jackets over their shoulders as they staggered to their respective baths.  There would no doubt be more than one scandalous whisper come dinner time.

“You need to beat the respect into them.”  The albino continued, idly inspecting his sword for damage before sheathing it with his usual fluid silence and flashing Gaddes a wicked grin.  Crimson eyes travelled up and down the sergeant’s body, enjoying the sight of simple cloth clinging to sweat slickened muscles.  “A leader can’t afford to look weak in front of their men.”  

“Hey, you can be as badass as you want kid.”  Gaddes groaned softly, carefully rotating his shoulder to make sure that he hadn’t pulled any muscles after the last set of brutal drills.  “I’ll happily be the guy they complain to, thinking that I won’t tell you everything that they say.”  He could feel the hungry eyes on him and took a few extra moments to stretch himself out, pleased that he could still hold the brats attention with all the half-naked men wandering around.  It did wonders for his ego if nothing else.  “Besides,” He continued, wiping at his brow with his shirtsleeve.  “If I started kicking their asses, all it would do was make them resent me and unlike you, I’m not the sort to go tossing men over my shoulders or threatening to slit throats over dirty looks.  They’d make a commoner like me regret it for the rest of my life.”

“You worry too much about consequences Fanelian.”  Dilandau chuckled, wandering past him clearly intent on stealing the jug of water way from Van who was currently hoarding it in a rather protective fashion. 

“One of us has to.”  Gaddes shot back pleasantly, nodding his head at the king.  “You certainly never seem to think about the future.”  That comment earned him a rather inelegant and contemptuous snort from the albino youth, prompting the older man to question just what it was Dilandau had up his sleeve this time.  While he knew that the kid was overflowing with cunning, he was all too intimately acquainted with how that rather severe lack of patience often brought said plans to ruin.

“Just promise me that you’re not about to pull something that’s going to get us killed, that’s all I ask.”  Gaddes found himself murmuring as he watched Van attempt to manoeuver the jug of water away from greedy hands.  The resulting glare of death was more than a little amusing despite his own crushing thirst.

“I make no such promises Fanelian.” The reply was hardly surprising at all and all Gaddes could do was sigh and roll his eyes dramatically.  “Hand over the jug you physically stunted pipsqueak.”

“I’m still drinking from it and I know that you’re going to do your best to take all of it just to spite me.”  Van shot back testily, taking another greedy sip. 

If Dilandau hadn’t been planning to finish the water before, he certainly was now just out of sheer spite and the look on his face said as much.  All Gaddes could do was sigh softly and wonder if he would ever live long enough to see the two teenagers get along for more than ten seconds at a time…barring unconsciousness of course.

“While you’re training, you’re my subordinate and should wait until I’ve had my fill before hogging the water.”

“Good thing that training is over for the day and I’m back to being a king.”  Smiling tauntingly at the other youth, Van took a deep sip from the jug, letting water spill from the corners of his mouth wastefully, fully aware that it would serve to further annoy the bothersome albino

“It’s good that you have something to fall back on considering your fighting skills outside of your demonic guymelef.”  Dilandau shot back heatedly grabbing for the jug only to have Van jerk it away at the last moment, spilling more of the cool precious water over himself.  Rather than be bothered, the darker youth simply enjoyed the refreshing chill after a hard day of training.  Seeing the enraged gleam in those crimson eyes was just what he needed to soothe his battered ego after being run rather literally into the ground earlier.  Of course, he couldn’t quite let it go at just that, not after having his skills as a warrior called into question.

“Oh yes, I’m terrible with a sword.”  He shot back, sounding as studiously bored as any well-bred astorian noble.  “How’s your face doing?  Still scarred I see.” 

This time Gaddes was ready for the lunge.  Before Dilandau’s sword could clear it’s sheathe, he’d grabbed onto the slender teenagers shoulders and pulled him out of striking range.  Of course, that didn’t stop the young captain from spouting out a rather blistering series of insults that were as creative as they were explicit.

“You two can’t even drink water without fighting?  Jeture, I thought we were passed all of this stupidity.”  His patience was pretty much done with the both of them.  He was hot, tired, thirsty and really just wanted a nice cool bath before he had to deal with anymore teenage aggression.  “Van, you’re a king.  Stop baiting your allies.  Dilandau, the guards are watching your every move after that stunt with the ambassador.  Don’t give the King a reason to have you thrown in irons.” 

“That pompous asskissing windbag of an ambassador had it coming and he’s lucky it was just his hand I drove a fork into.  If he speaks to me in that manner again, I’ll drive it into his eye.”

“Well it’s nice to see that you’re as charming with others are you are with me.”  Van muttered, shooting Dilandau a dark glare before relinquishing his sovereignty over the water jug.  “You have some serious anger management issues.”

“There’s nothing wrong with putting vermin in their place.  That Silver Army moron wouldn’t have ever dared speak to me before the war.”  Breaking Gaddes’ hold on him, he snatched up the jug before Van could change his mind.  Raising it to his lips, ready to enjoy the much earned drink, Dilandau paused.  It was empty.

For a moment, he seriously considered bludgeoning the Fanelian king to death with the ceramic jug.  It would be a fitting end for the runt and worth any punishment the astorians could possibly give him.

“Silver Army?  What, did the big bad demon armies not get along or something?  I thought that Zaibach was some unified utopia for the criminally insane.”

“Oh, that’s so funny Van, really.  This is my laughing face.  Palos!  I want water NOW!”  Dilandau snapped in the direction of the messenger who was doing his best to stay out of sight.  With a soft squeak, the thin man darted forward to grab the jug before racing off to have it refilled before any wrath could be aimed in his direction.

“None of the Four Demon Armies got along overly well.  There was a reason we were kept separate most of the time.”  A slight smile twisted Dilandau’s pale lips as he remembered the rage which had always twisted General Peitre’s face whenever he had to deal with the Dragonslayers.  General Helios and General Zodia always did their best to stay well away from him.  It had always made festivals and joint exercises so much fun and he’d found great enjoyment in the discomfiture of such powerful men.  “Copper Army was the one that had the most interactions with the others.  We’d lend a hand when their skill was lacking and fix their mistakes on the battlefield.”

“Wow… I can’t imagine why they weren’t falling over themselves in gratitude with an attitude like that.”

“We saved lives, they should have appreciated that fact.”

“That doesn’t seem to fit with your genocidal style.”

“We saved the lives that _mattered_.”  Dilandau drawled, emphasizing the last word so that the Fanelian king knew exactly where he fell in the albino’s opinion.  Before Van could bite back and no doubt start round two of their aborted fight, Gaddes stepped between them.  Seriously, when Allen finally caught up with them, he was demanding a raise.  There was no way he was being paid enough to play babysitter to these two for days at a time.

“Sooooo.”  He took a moment to give both teenagers a warning look.  “What else was on the day’s itinerary?” 

“A bath would be nice.”

“I’m amazed that fanelians even know what that is.”

“Forgive me oh one who likely bathes in scented water and has oils rubbed onto him by nubile slave boys.”

“They weren’t slaves.”

“You know… I was aiming for sarcasm there, not realism.”

“Awww, did I just kill your moment?”

“Stabbed it, killed it, set it on fire… yeah.”

“Good, I like consistency.”

“Itinerary kids!”  Gaddes cut in, not sure what he found more disconcerting, the image of Dilandau getting oil rubbed into his skin by various nubile boys, or the king and warlord actually having a playful conversation moments after attempting to murder each other.  Likely the latter… the former just sort of turned him on and was promptly filed under things to do to Dilandau later tonight.  “Are we going to look at the files now?”

Shooting Van a quick smirking look of superiority, the albino turned to face Gaddes and gestured idly towards one of the guymelef holding bays.

“I want to take a look at what this country stole off of Zaibach so I know what I’m dealing with.  I’ll start diagnostics in the morning before training.”

“How long will that take?”  Van couldn’t help but ask with interest colouring his voice.  While he definitely preferred the classical guymelefs, he had to admit that all the shiny buttons and levers inside the Alseides were more than a little fascinating.

Dilandau shrugged at his question and began walking towards the hangar he’d been told contained his countries war machines.  When he caught sight of Palos hurrying towards them, water jug in hand, he slowed his stride just enough for the man to catch up.  Snatching it from the messenger, he took a long deep swallow before handing it to Gaddes, fully aware that the man was likely just as thirsty as he was.

“Not sure how long it will take.”  He admitted over the noisy sound of Gaddes slurping from the jug like the barbarian he was.  “It depends on if anyone was spiteful enough to rig them to self-destruct on activation.  I’m sure I’ll find one or two like that.”  Behind him, three sets of footsteps stumbled to a halt in shock.

“You… you weren’t kidding about that?  They might seriously be trapped?”  Gaddes sputtered, suddenly less than sure about this bargain they’d struck with the king.  In reply, the slender teenager simply shrugged as if they were discussing nothing more dangerous than the local weather.

“I’d have done it if I’d been around.”  He said simply before motioning briskly to the two guards stationed by the entranceway.  Both men glared at the zaibach youth as if they’d rather run him through than open the doors for him, but duty won out over vendetta in the end.  Grumbling some rather unpleasant remarks under their breath, the men opened the door and fell in behind them, clearly not trusting Dilandau in a room full of guymelefs.

If the kid was bothered by this open display of suspicion, he didn’t say anything.  Instead, his attention was taken by the sight of nearly fifty Alseides packed in together for storage.  Their dark blue metal hulls glimmered dully in the torchlight, the fire dancing almost playfully across their bulbous shoulders, whispering sweet promises of destruction to the young albino.  It was such a beautiful sight that for a moment, he actually forgot where he was and found himself once again in that far away hangar back in Zaibach.

 

_The blue giants stood side by side, ten abreast and twenty deep, dormant in the cool blue light of the energist scones set in the walls.  All around him, machinery hummed, steadily building more of the massive beasts for the always hungry army._

_He felt so small, so fragile standing at the feet of these glorious machines and his neck ached from how sharply he had to arch it in order to see their tops.  Here and there, he could make out the dull glint of their energist casings, awaiting the shining cores which would soon be inserted into their hearts._

_This… this was true power.  With a handful of these, he could crush armies, he could destroy countries and grind all of Gaea beneath his heel.  Pale slender fingers twitched as they imagined wrapping around the controls he’d up until now only felt in simulators._

_Nothing could compare with the strength he felt radiating off of these machines and he knew that once he was part of one, he would be a god of death and terror.  The thought made him smile widely until the cold touch of a bony hand gripped his slender shoulder, causing his expression to snap back into one of empty neutrality._

_“Your scores in the simulator were exemplary and I believe it is time for field testing.”  His Masters cold oily voice flowed around him, reminding him that he was still powerless, still so terribly frail and helpless in the shadow of this mortal god.  “I expect that you will continue to shine above the other test subjects.”  It wasn’t a request and the child could hear the threat present beneath the words.  Fail and die.  It was such a simple life, but one he embraced gladly.  How could he not?  The Emperor cared about his welfare enough to feed him, train him and now had gifted him with one of these glorious machines.  Anyone failing to live up to His expectations wasn’t worthy of such generosity and he felt warmth suffuse his being._

_“I will continue to please you Master.”  He replied even though his acknowledgement wasn’t required.  Still, it seemed to please his Master and the hand drifted slightly lower down his back, tracing along his spine in silent promise._

_“See that you do.  Subject 28 isn’t far behind you in skill.  It could easily replace you as the prime prototype.”  Subject 28 had always been his closest rival amongst the other test subjects.  Lithe, strong and lethal, he had long crimson hair and cold golden eyes that shone like twin suns.  They’d crossed blades many times in training and so far, Subject 35 had always emerged the victor, though it had at times been by a rather narrow margin.  The mere mention of his rival’s designation made the silver boys heart beat a little faster at the thrill of competition though he kept his expression carefully neutral._

_“Do you wish me to kill it?”_

_“Not yet.  Your formulae both show promise, it would be a shame to abort an experiment before it’s time.  No.  Today I we will assign you a guymelef and you will duel some soldiers.  Come, your unit has already been prepared.  You will be granted an hour to familiarize yourself with the machine before your battle.”  There was no need to ask if it was to the death.  There were no other options in his life.  Still, he gave one last look at the towering walls of mechanical death and vowed to make his Master and the Emperor proud._

 

“Still with us kid?”  Gaddes nudged the albino gently with his shoulder, taking some small measure of amusement out of the dreamy distant look on the teenagers face.  It wasn’t often he got to see an honest unguarded look on the brats face that didn’t involve coitus or just waking up.

“Yeah… just remembering when I was assigned my first unit.”  Dilandau murmured softly, walking over to the nearest guymelef and gently stroking a hand along its metal leg.  “Gorgeous aren’t they?”

It wasn’t a word the sergeant would ever use to describe the massive war machines.  Terrifying, deadly, bowel churning.  Those were all much more appropriate adjectives as far as he was concerned.  Still, he couldn’t help but notice the loving touches the young captain was giving the machines and coughed loudly to get the kids attention.  Seriously, there were people here, the brat shouldn’t look like he was warming up to give the machine a hand job.

“How about you just do what you need to do so we can get out of here.”  Van couldn’t help but grumble, eyeing the sedentary guymelefs with unconcealed wariness.  “This place gives me the creeps.  I keep expecting the damn things to try to kill me.”

“Awww, is the big bad king scared of an itty bitty guymelef?”

“They’re eight costa high!  That’s not small and seriously, you spent the better part of a year trying to murder me with these things.”

“Yeaaaah.”  Did the kid have to sound so dreamy about that?  No, Gaddes knew better than to ask himself that question.  “Those were good times.”

“Yeah, for you, you pigmentally challenged psychopath.  Not so much fun for me.”  Van favoured Dilandau with a hate filled glare only to be met with a rather smug smirk as the taller teenager refused to rise to the bait.  “Now what did you have to do here exactly?”

Allowing himself a slight snicker at the discomfiture of his nemesis, Dilandau glanced over at the guards.

“Yo, grunts.  Where’s the inventory list?  I want to know where each of these machines came from, what state they’re in and what armaments they’re supposed to have.”  Yup, diplomacy wasn’t one of the kid’s strengths and it showed in how the already dark glares on the guards faces became even less pleasant.

“We’re not your slaves you freak.”  One grumbled as the other nodded his head in agreement.  “We guard the door.”

“Really.”  Yeah, that tone of voice didn’t’ bode well at all and Gaddes knew that Dilandau was getting ready to flay the men alive.  “That door?  The one way over there at the other end of the warehouse?”  Alright, Gaddes couldn’t help it, he snickered under his breath as both men turned in perfect unison to look at the post they’d just abandoned in order to stalk the zaibach captain.

Smiling with saccharine sweetness, Dilandau stepped up to the more vocal of the two guards and smiled widely.  The expression had far too many teeth bared to be considered at all friendly.

“How about you and your little friend either find me that inventory list, or get your lazy asses back to your posts before I decide to have words with your superior.  I’m in charge of the guymelefs now and if I see either one of you fucking around again while you’re on duty I’ll have you busted down to the rank of piss pot boys before you can blink.  Am I understood?”  Considering he hadn’t actually threatened violence on either man, it was rather impressive to see how quickly they scrambled back to their posts, earning a smug smirk from Dilandau.

“You do realize that Astoria’s royal court doesn’t use piss pot boys?”  Van couldn’t help but murmur, doing his best to not snicker at the looks on the retreating guards faces.  Rather than be upset at this revelation, Dilandau simply shrugged elegantly and glanced around for the list he’d originally wanted.

“Didn’t think so, but it sounded good.”  He flashed a slight grin in the king’s direction.  “And I mean it, f those idiots leave their posts again and I see it, I’ll personally make them follow me with a nice bucket for me and the rest of the class to piss in.”  The smile turned nasty.  “And at the end of the day, I’ll drown them in it.”

Yeah… there was the violence.  At least the brat was consistent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, yeah, DIlandau is a somewhat unorthodox teacher, at least as far as Astoria is concerned. I don't see him really having any patience for bullshit and expecting anyone training under him to be quick, subservient and ready to give it their all at any given moment. Yeah, he's certainly a bully and an ass, but hey! No fatalities!  
> No, I don't see Van and Dilandau as ever getting past the Frenemies stage. They seem happy to piss each other off at any given opportunity even if they will occasionally have each other's backs. Poor Gaddes.
> 
> Next Chapter: Dilandau finally gets access to the Madoushi files and begins to learn about his past... but is he ready for what he's going to find?


	26. Ignorance is Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes knowledge isn't worth the price you pay. Our "heroes" begin to uncover the secrets of the Madoushi files, only to make some horrifying discoveries that will leave lasting scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any characters, yadda yadda blah blah. no money, don't sue.
> 
> So, having a bad case of bronchitis then getting a lung infection leaves you with a lot of time to write, so here's the next chapter ahead of schedule! already finished the next chapter and hopefully getting the one after that punched out before I am allowed to go back to work. Seriously tired of being sick.
> 
> That being said. This is a seriously dark chapter. There's child torture here, child death, consensual underage sex is mentioned vaguely as well as references to non consensual (nothing graphic). I do not condone any of these actions nor do I support them. this is a story, a rather dark one... I'm really a very nice person!!

                “Ugh, this food tastes strange.”  Dilandau huffed softly as he took another bite of what he’d been told was fish at one point in its life.  Whenever that had been, the poor animal had certainly been through several sorts of hell to become its current incarnation.  The taste wasn’t bad he supposed, but there were too many flavours warring with each other as far as he was concerned, and none of them were what he was used to.  Everything had tasted wrong since he’d woken up to this new life.  Even the simple fare on board the Crusade had lacked something and he could feel his body yearning for that mysterious ingredient.

                “You do get used to it after a while, sir.  Though I have to admit, it’s rather bland compared to home.”  Regis murmured warmly off to his side, daintily cutting into his own food with delicate movements on par with any Astorian noble seated at the table.  “I miss the taste of firethistle juice.”  The youth offered Dilandau a slight smile and the albino found himself nodding his head slightly.  Maybe that’s what he was missing?  The piquant fruit was a staple in most Zaibach cuisine and acted as an excellent preservative, making it popular within the military.  Most of his food had always been flavoured with its juice and he found himself missing it a little more with every bite.

                “I don’t want to get used to it.”  He found himself huffing petulantly, doing his best to ignore the amused looks several nearby nobles were covertly shooting him, as if his lack of epicurean appreciation was something humorous.  Stuck up bastards, let’s see how they like it when they tried to breathe through their “ten flavour soup” as he drowned them with it.

                “Sir, you could always put a request into the kitchen for some traditional zaibach fare… though I’ll warn you that they never get it to taste right.”  Regis offered, smiling slightly at the honour of being able to speak so candidly with his idol.  His father had declined dinner this evening, citing ill health despite the fact that it was obvious he was avoiding certain individuals.  Not that it mattered to the teenager, he had happily shifted over to occupy the vacant seat in order to be closer to the pale legend.  Hopefully he wasn’t being too pushy, but so far the hot tempered captain hadn’t rebuffed any of his attempts at friendship. 

The captain had seemed to relax visibly at the use of his honorific and Regis made sure to use it as often as possible without sounding too obvious about it.  He’d never dreamed that one day he’d get to sit next to the famed Dilandau Albatou, let alone converse with him on nearly equal terms.  The very idea of being trained by him was his greatest wish being granted and he didn’t want to do anything to risk it.

“Thanks for the warning.”  Regis watched as another small forkful of food slid past lush pale lips noting that even chewing was done with a neat economy of movement… it was perfection to watch.  Realising that he was staring like some vapid little girl, he quickly turned back to his own dinner, all too aware of the faint blush on his heated cheeks.  Next to him, Dilandau smirked slightly, aware of his companion’s discomfiture and enjoying it.  It had been far too long since anyone treated him the way he’d come to expect and he was loathe to dismiss it so soon.

“You did well in training today.”  He commented lazily as servants replaced the fish with the next course, some strange noddle dish which he was pretty sure was mixed with vegetables.  Honestly, it looked like multi-coloured vomit as far as he was concerned, but food was food and he knew better than to waste it.  “You need to be more aggressive in your attacks in the future.  We don’t fight to take prisoners remember, we fight to win at all costs.”

The rose of Regis’ cheeks deepened at the mix of praise and chastisement and he nodded his head, radiating respect out of every pore.  You’d have thought that he was speaking to the Emperor Himself the way the kid carried himself and Dilandau couldn’t help but feel flattered.

“It won’t happen again sir.”  He assured the captain, his voice as heavy as if he’d just sworn a blood oath.  “I’ll show no mercy to the enemy.”  It was like speaking to Shesta when he’d first joined the team and it sent a warm glow through Dilandau’s body at the thought of how beautifully this young soldier could bloom under his tutelage.  The boy was soft and spoiled in comparison to his Dragonslayers, but that could be fixed, especially if he could keep that damn ambassador out of the way.

“See that it doesn’t.”  There was steel in his tone, warning that he would accept no middle ground and was pleased to see the look of resolution in the young man’s cool grey eyes.  “How extensive was your guymelef training?”  The blush faded quickly as Regis hung his head in shame, clearly certain that he was about to disappoint his idol in the worst way.

“I learned the systems in the Academy but I don’t have any practical training.  Father forbade it.  He didn’t want me to risk myself on the front lines in the war.”  Now it was Dilandau’s turn to frown at the audacity of such an action.  Everyone fought for their country.  It was an inviolate rule which had been drilled into his bones and blood as one of his earliest memories.

“I wanted to!”  Regis continued, slamming his cutlery down on the tabletop and earning himself several reprimanding glares from those around him.  Ignoring them for the moment, he shifted to face Dilandau, staring into those shining crimson eyes, eyes which were utterly unique in the whole of Gaea, much like the captain himself.  “I fought and pleaded with him.  My… my greatest dream was the join the Dragonslayers and fight under you Lord Dilandau, but… father forbid me from attending any of the qualifying tests.”

“Your father is a short sighted fool then.”  Dilandau remarked acidly before smiling at the other youth.  “But his mistakes shouldn’t become yours.  How good are you at running basic diagnostics on the Alseides units?”  He allowed himself a victory sip of wine at how the other teens face lit up.  One would think that he’d just promised the world.  It was a good feeling as if he was one again the axis another life rotated around and he’d missed it terribly.

“I trained on them primarily and my instructors all were impressed at my thoroughness!”  Regis snatched at the implied opportunity to impress like a starving dog with a bone.  He so desperately wanted to amaze the captain and felt his heart expand at the slight smile which graced those pale lips.

“Good, you’ll join me at oh six hundred at the guymelef hangar and work with me on diagnostics.  I need to go through all the machines before I let anyone so much as look at them directly.  The last thing I need is a literal meltdown during class.”

“I’d be honoured to help sir!”  Regis couldn’t believe his luck!  Half a year ago, he’d thought that being sent into exile into Astoria was some sort of vicious punishment for not doing his part in the war, especially when he had to watch his father barter away Zaibachs dwindling resources to pay for reparation fee’s.  Now it suddenly seemed all worth it, the humiliation, the dread, the self-loathing… because now he was being given a chance at his dream!  It must have shown on his face because Dilandau’s smile grew a shade wider and warmer before quickly returning to the familiar cold indifference he seemed to adopt in the court.

“See that you do.  I expect the best.  Don’t disappoint me.”

 

 

“So, what was that about at dinner?”  Van asked as he stepped into the personal space of the albino.  Most of the court was still happily milling about, enjoying the chance to socialize, plot and scheme against each other.  Having absolutely no taste for such things, Dilandau had headed straight for the doors the instant propriety allowed, eager to begin sorting through the no doubt endless Madoushi files.  Of course, his ever attentive jailor wasn’t going to let him slip away so easily.

Sighing in irritation, he favoured the Fanelian king with a dour glare which seemed to do little to discourage the darker youth’s proximity.

“You need to narrow it down a little Van.”  Dilandau grumbled, raising his voice just enough to ensure that nearby nobles heard his rude familiarity with the royal.  “I can’t pluck the answers out of thin air like your Mystic Moon bitch.”  The insult barely did more than cause a slight lowering of the kings overly bushy eyebrows, proving that he was quickly building up a tolerance for the albino’s spite.  Well, that wouldn’t do.  It wasn’t any fun to throw barbs at the pipsqueak if he wasn’t going to react.

“I mean you and the ambassador’s kid.  You two seemed to be having a rather intense conversation.  People might begin to think you’re plotting something together.”

“People meaning you?”  Dilandau couldn’t help but ask, allowing contempt to drip from his words.  “Honestly Van, if I was going to plot against the Astorian throne, I certainly wouldn’t do it at the damn dinner table.  Sedition is more of a… back alley sort of thing.”

“Familiar with the process are you?”

“That was more Folken’s thing really.”  Dilandau shot back, pleased to see that comment draw blood.  “I’m wondering actually if there’s a country he didn’t betray during the war…. Maybe Egzardia?”  Grinning widely, he tapped his chin in feigned thoughtfulness.  “Hmmm no, there was that whole thing with the Duke and that shipment… oops, classified.”  It was so much fun watching the barbarian king bristle like that.  “Oh I’m sorry, did I hit a nerve there?  You didn’t honestly think you were special in that regard did you?”  He smiled with poisonous sweetness at the king, inwardly thrilling at the emotional pain he was causing his nemesis.  Truce or no truce, it was fun to hurt the stunted bastard.

“Do you honestly not know how to have a conversation without being an utter ass?”  Van ground out, flashing a dark glare in the direction of his enemy, wishing that he could punch the smug bastard in the face half a dozen times without breaking his word to Allen.  Fate of the world or not, it would be worth it to make the freaks face match his soul.

“Hmmm, likely not.  Social skills were never high on the list of things for me to know.”  Dilandau replied with a self-satisfied smirk.  “But hey, look at the bright side, you’re about to hear a nice detailed list of all the ways I was tortured as a small child.  That should make your day a little brighter.”

 It felt as if ice water had been poured over Van’s head and he shivered a little despite himself as he remembered exactly where they were going, and why.  Suddenly the heightened sense of antagonism coming off of the albino made sense, he was scared.  None of them had any idea what they were going to learn tonight but it was pretty much a guaranteed to be horrible.  Suddenly, Van wasn’t so eager to know, especially in the presence of the victim.  Gods of Gaea, thinking of Dilandau as any sort of victim was mind boggling in and of itself.  He’d always been the one to perpetrate atrocities and his name was synonymous with just about any act of utter inhumanity the king could think of… but at one point in time he’d been nothing more than a terrified little kid, utterly at the mercy of Zaibach’s cruelest scientists.

“Dilandau…”  Van took a deep breath and swallowed loudly.  No one deserved what the other teen had gone through.  He’d seen the scars on that too pale skin and was still haunted by those empty eyes drained of everything but terror.  Knowing that he’d played a part in the shattering of this proud warrior didn’t sit well with him even though he’d done it for the greater good of all of Gaea. 

Struggling to form the words to express what he was feeling, he was interrupted by a raised hand in his face.

“Don’t.”  Dilandau’s voice was soft and so tight that it sounded ready to break.  The taller youth didn’t look back and didn’t stop walking towards their destination.  “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it.  This is intelligence gathering and nothing more.  Don’t see the victims, they’re not important.  What we’re looking for is information and that’s it.”

Despite the cold words, Van was pretty sure that Dilandau was trying to convince himself rather than the king. 

“It’s alright to be afraid you know.”  He found himself murmuring.  “What they did to y-”  His words were cut off as steel strong fingers tightened around his throat and drove him back hard into the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs.  Crimson eyes bore into his, an alien light shining in their depths as the king felt the oppressive weight of enraged madness wash over him.

“Don’t you dare speak to me about fear Van.  They might have been the ones to torture me, but you stripped away anything that was good and stable in my life.   Fifteen lives might not seem like much compared to how many I sent to the paths of the dead, but those fifteen meant the world to me.  What you did… it was just as bad as every cut, every injection and every scream the Madoushi wrenched out of me so don’t you DARE try to offer a single word of understanding!” 

“Get your hands off me you psychopath before I give you a matching scar on the other side of your face.”  Van snarled viciously, his lips pulling back off of his teeth.  His hand was on his sword, ready to draw it despite the close proximity.  Dilandau was close enough he could feel the heat of his breath across his face and see the strange light in the depths of his eyes.  That was it!  From now on he was going to start carrying a damn knife on him whenever he was around the albino.  This was getting ridiculous!

Crimson eyes held steadily fixed on brown for several long moments as Van registered, shock, trepidation and finally, a cold calculating harshness which had previously been lacking.  The temperature of the room seemed to drop slightly and the king felt a chill deep in his soul.  He wasn’t sure if it was the proximity of the captain’s ever-present spectral companions, or from the albino himself. 

Van had just enough time to realize that he might have finally overstepped some unseen line in the sand with the zaibach youth before Dilandau’s lips pulled apart in that all too familiar sneer of loathing.

“You don’t have the balls to start down that path again Van.  You know where it leads and you’re far too soft inside to carry through with your threat.”  Despite the words openly calling his bluff, the vice-like grip relaxed and Dilandau turned away from him in disgust.  “Now get moving.  The sooner we find Gaddes, the sooner you can stop befouling yourself with my presence.”

Once again Van was left feeling as if he’d been the bad guy in the situation and it wasn’t sitting well with him.  He’d had enough of this wounded warrior routine from the Dragonslayer.  Dilandau had been the one to throw him against the wall and get all snarly.  Why was he allowed to do that when Van wasn’t allowed to respond?  Ugh, none of this made sense… of course, Dilandau WAS crazy, so making sense likely was a lost cause.

Contrary to Dilandau’s expectations, Van didn’t leave his side the instant they were joined by Gaddes and Palos.  The lure of learning just what exactly their collective enemy had been up to… and was obviously still up to was simply too much and if he was truly being honest with himself, he really didn’t feel right about leaving the prickly teenager at a time like this.  Well, that and he sort of doubted the sergeant’s ability to keep the captain out of trouble. 

Oddly enough, Dilandau seemed to know where they were going, heading deep within the castle and into the lower levels.  Van had a vague recollection of this being where the Fate machine Folken had salvaged from the Vione wreckage was being kept. 

Both he and Gaddes exchanged nervous glances, neither commenting on how the captain seemed to know where he was going.  Hopefully he’d simply asked the ambassador’s kid, or someone else for directions rather than there being any other more sinister reasons.  Of course, this brought to mind how during the attack on Fanelia, the Dragonslayers had seemed to know exactly where to go to find Escaflowne…granted, they’d had Folken leading them… maybe the two weren’t related… yeah… right.

There was a guard leaning against the wall by the final set of stairs, looking more than a little bored until they approached.  To the man’s credit, he snapped to attention quickly enough, though naturally not fast enough to avoid a rather thorough tongue lashing from Dilandau. 

Upon hearing the rather verbose tirade, the door opened from within and a rather shrivelled old man stepped out, peering at them all with squinted eyes despite the thick glasses he wore.  His sparse hair seemed to float in an unruly cloud beneath his rather simple skullcap and the overly ornate robes of a scholar seemed to weight down his already stooped frame.  Still, he shuffled over to them without hesitation and peered at them all intently.

“So.  You would be the young Zaibach boy who’s going to translate the sorcerer’s code?”  He was staring at Van as he spoke, looking the king up and down.  It was more than a little difficult not to bristle at the assumption.  As if he looked at all like a citizen of Zaibach!  He was far too dark and stocky as opposed to the usually tall and pale members of that northern country.

“That would be me.”  Dilandau stated boldly, flashing Van yet another sneer as he stepped forward, studying the scholar as one might a bug.  “I’m Captain Dilandau Albatou of the Copper Army.”  The teenagers tone of voice left a lot to be desired in the respect department though Van was pretty sure that he was just as insulted over not being immediately pegged for being Zaibach as Van was for the complete opposite.

“You would be Scholar Inverness?”

“It’s the robes isn’t it?”  The old man cackled softly to himself and grinned, displaying age yellowed teeth.  “Yes, definitely the robes, they always give me away.   Yes, yes, I’m Scholar Inverness, pleased to meet you, though I’d been told that I would be meeting a Lord Schezar…”  Everyone watched as Dilandau visibly grit his teeth and restrained himself from throwing yet another of his spectacular tantrums right there in the hallway.

“Yes… that is one of my titles…”  He ground out, the words falling like acid from his tongue.  “Lord Dryden said that you were the preeminent translator in Asturia and can read zaibachi fluently?”

Now it was time for the old scholar to puff up with pride, his smile growing wide and shrewd as he sensed the challenge behind the young captain’s question.

“I can read Zaibachi as well as the military shorthand for all four Demon Armies.  I was instrumental in translating many interrupted missives during the war.  I’m also familiar with the coded hand signs, so don’t be trying to insult me unless you want it tossed right back at you son.”  Thin bony fingers pointed at Dilandau’s left hand which was seemingly tapping idly at his thigh.  It seemed that there was more to the motion than that considering how he immediately stopped the action, a slow smile of respect spreading across his face as he regarded the old man in a new light.

“Who taught you?”  He sounded genuinely interested in the answer and honestly, it was the friendliest Van had heard him speak in quite a while.

“My wife was from Zaibach.  Lovely woman until she got angry.  Jeture, that woman could make a dragon turn tail and run when she was in a mood.”  Now it was Van’s turn to gape in shock at the revelation.

“You married a Zaibach woman!?  But… how?”  He sputtered, earning an eye roll from Dilandau and an amused chuckle form the scholar.

“Well, much the same way a man would marry any other woman.  For forty years she kept the home-fire burning.  Died five years ago from the summer sickness.  Don’t give me that look boy.”  He admonished Van sternly and shaking a thin bony finger at the king.  “War aside, the Zaibach are a proud and brilliant people who deserve respect for their achievements.  My fiery Ariana left her country to be by my side and while she never fit in here, she never once complained.  My only consolation is that she died before the War and never had to see how misguided her country became.  It would have broken her heart.”

“Zaibach isn’t misguided.”  Dilandau growled softly.  “We followed our Emperor’s vision loyally.”

“And look where that got you.”  The scholar chided sharply.  “Blind faith is foolish and we’ve all been guilty of it at one point in time in history.  This time it was Zaibach’s turn.  Next time… who knows?  Lessons are learned then forgotten as history lessens the pain of the learning.  That’s why scholars are so important.  We remember what’s happened before and do our best to keep the past from repeating itself.  Which I believe is why you’re here today is it not?”

Again, those shrewd eyes studied the Dragonslayer who surprisingly seemed to be considering his words rather than immediately flying off the handle over the implied insult.

“You realize that teaching you our hand codes is considered a treasonous offense.”

“I can assure you that she’s hardly concerned with that though if you wish, I’ll show you her grave tomorrow and you’re welcome to take her ashes into custody.”  This time the captain actually smiled at the man’s audacity and the pale youth chuckled softly.

“I like you old man.”  He finally stated.  “I can see why she chose to marry you.  You’re nothing like the other stuffy Astorian’s in court.”

“Son, at my age, you have two choices.  You can either become a hidebound old codger, or you can simply not give a damn.  I merely chose to adopt the latter lifestyle choice at a much younger age than most.  Haven’t regretted it since.”

The old man motioned them through the door and then shot the guard an icy glare when the man moved to follow them in.

“Son, if the zaibach boy was going to give me problems, he’d have made that well and truly clear by now.”  The scholar snapped in a surprisingly sharp and commanding voice.  “You mind your post and keep us from being bothered unless it’s Rita coming down with my tea and biscuits.”  He then leaned over and whispered loudly to Dilandau.  “Rita is a fine and kind girl, she’s sweet on me you know but I play along on account of not wanting to break her young heart.”  Cackling in delight, he headed into the labs below, his stooped shuffle giving the others plenty of time to catch up.

All of them took the opportunity to look around them with interest, noting the bits and pieces of odd detritus from various countries at differing points in time.  Most of the items were predominantly Zaibach in origin and several of them had clearly been scavenged from the Vione.  There were even still barnacles on a few pieces and Gaddes had to resist the urge to poke at them in curiosity.

“Hey, kid, what did this used to be?”  He found himself asking, motioning towards a strange looking contraption that had all the appearances of a toothless dragon skull.  A quick glance was all it took from Dilandau to identify the item.

“It’s part of a docking clamp for the Alseides.  It held them suspended before a drop.”  He shrugged, hardly interested in junk which had likely washed up on shore after the mighty flagship of the Empire had sunk beneath the harbour waves.  Up ahead, Scholar Inverness perked up visibly and turned around, curious as to which item he was referring to.  With a grin, the old man adjusted his spectacles and toddled over, pulling a thick scroll from one of the folds of his robes.

“Are you sure?”  He asked, pulling a quill pen out of some other hidden pocket and dabbing it with a small bottle of ink.  Dilandau wasn’t about to ask where the ink had been hidden.

“Of course I’m sure.  I stared at the damn things often enough waiting for Folken to give the order to drop.”  He glanced at the device and stepped forward, studying a few faint scratches on the side where there was quite a bit of scoring.  “There should be a serial number on the side which would tell you the hangar it belonged to as well as which stall it had been assigned to.  This one was from B level, section five, stall four.  It belonged to Beta Five, not sure who had the stall assignment.  They weren’t one of the main squads on the Vione, hence the rather lackluster name.”  Though Dilandau sounded less than interested with the piece of refuse, the scholar was quite clearly delighted and quickly scribbled down the information on his scroll, cackling softly to himself. 

“Marvelous my boy, truly marvelous.”  He crooned in approval.  “I would love to have you go through my collection and identify everything.  So much of what we’ve found is beyond us, Zaibach technology being what it is…”

“My priorities are the Madoushi files.”  There was just enough of a chill to Dilandau’s voice to remind them all that he was looking at the remains of his own ship, a symbol of his countries defeat, not to mention his own since he hadn’t been there to protect the Vione when it had finally fallen.

“Of course, of course, the machine is through here.”  Scholar Inverness bobbed his head in apology and shuffled over to a rather heavy and solid looking door.  Gaddes could only marvel at how imposing it looked and wonder how someone as scrawny as the old man could ever hope to open it. 

Rather than pull out a key or press against the door, the old man walked over to a small metal plaque set into the wall and pressed his hand against its surface.  With a soft hiss, the door opened itself, leaving three out of the four newcomers staring in wide eyed shock.  Dilandau simply huffed softly and walked in, not looking at all impressed.

“Folken?”  He asked simply and the old man nodded.

“He felt that what lay beyond this room was far too dangerous to be protected by a simple key and guard so he set up this magic panel that opens the door at my command!”  All he was missing was the cackle of delight over his command of the mystical door.

“It’s reading your handprint.”  He stated simply, glancing around the room as he spoke and doing his best to keep from gasping aloud in shock at what he saw.  “Wrinkles, scars, measurements and thermal scan… We have them all over the Empire though most prefer coded locks, they’re more reliable… How the flying fuck did he get his Fortune Amplifier in here?  How did it even survive the crash?  Wait… this bit is new…”  For a moment, it was clear that Dilandau had forgotten that anyone else was in the room as he boldly walked over to the rather intimidating machine which consisted of a huge orb set into the floor and an inverted pyramid above it.  Both were liberally decorated with wires, tubing and lenses which glowed rather ominously despite what they all hoped was a powered down state. 

Gaddes couldn’t help but follow the path of some of the thick bundles of cables, noting the ominous looking cylinders set into the walls, wondering just what exactly their purpose was.  In contrast, Dilandau looked utterly comfortable as he examined the machine, tapping at some small dials and noting various configurations with interest.

“This is what he used to get into the Emperor’s throne room isn’t it?  Schezar mentioned that he and the bitch used one of his machines to summon the light pillar.”  Both Gaddes and Van shrugged in answer.  Neither of them had been present for the event, nor did they know anything about the machine other than the fact that it was big and mind numbingly intimidating.

“What does this thing do?”  Van finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.  Dilandau favoured him with a cold calculating glance, obviously debating on just how much to share with the king.

“It’s a Fortune Amplifier.”  He said simply, not bothering to elaborate even though he knew damn well that the answer did little to enlighten them.  What mattered was that it had a link to the Emperor’s own Fate Alteration Engine and no doubt, the bitch and the traitor had somehow tapped into the flow of energy between the two machines and used it to home in to the throne room itself with the damned pillar.  To betray the Empire in such a manner was vile and disgusting in and of itself, but to use the Emperor’s own machine, the very heart and soul of the Zaibach Empire to do it… it was the ultimate blasphemy.  Dilandau wanted so badly to destroy the machine which had been responsible for the fall of his precious Empire but the damage had already been done.  Destroying it now would only serve to work against him in the end.  He would likely need this monstrosity intact for what was to come, and the Dragonslayer knew better than to destroy any potential weapon at his disposal.

Even now, he could feel the pull of the machine against his soul.  It was as familiar as it was unpleasant, though in its current powered down state, the sensation was easy to ignore.  Still, it did set him somewhat on edge as he wondered if the Madoushi who could very likely be on the other end of the machines transmissions had a way of monitoring the fluctuation his approach no doubt caused in the energy flow.  Folken had always made sure to keep him as far away from the machine as the room permitted whenever he used it to establish a link with the Emperor.  Not that he’d ever minded.  The thing made the marrow in his bones itch and the sensation only grew worse when the connection on the other end was open.

Idly tapping a few of the energy discharge monitors, he glanced over at the Scholar.

“Have the readings ever changed on this over the past few colours since the war?”

“No… should they?”  Scholar Inverness asked with interest.  “Lord Folken didn’t really explain its workings to me.”

Good, that meant that there wasn’t an active link on the other end… of course, that could change at any given moment.  Granted, it wasn’t Zaibach’s great machine they had to worry about, it was the one Basram was no doubt assembling.  Would it operate on the same frequencies as the original?  Could a connection be established?  An icy shiver of dread raced up his spine as he considered the implications of such a link.

“Everything ok kid?”  Gaddes’s voice was heavy with concern as he stepped over to the youth and gently reached out a hand, placing it lightly on Dilandau’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”  Taking a small amount of comfort in the touch, he took a moment to look around the room, studying the lab table resting in front of the damn machine, set up in Folken’s favourite configurations.  Every jar, phial and burner was in the exact same position as they’d been in the man’s lab.  It was eerie to say the least but its sheer familiarity lent a feeling of security and he found himself turning away from it easily enough to briefly examine the overstocked shelves filled with books, beakers and various test tubes, all neatly filed and labelled.

One such label caught his eye and he grinned in victory, wandering over to the shelf in question.  Picking up the vial of course caused Van to step forward angrily, his stocky frame bristling with suspicion.  Before he could even voice his obvious accusations, Dilandau held up the jar filled with a thick white cream.

“It’s sunblock Van.  Hardly dangerous even in my hands.  Folken lacked your families ruddy complexion and likely enjoyed this sundrenched land only marginally more than I do.”  Off to the side, the Scholar nodded his head in confirmation.

“He did make mention several times of the sun irritating his skin.  Help yourself to it dear boy, I can only imagine the problems you have from the sun with your pigmentation.”  If Dilandau didn’t like the man before, he certainly did now and happily handed the jar to Gaddes for safe keeping as he continued his investigation of the room. 

Most everything else were book filled shelves, odd trinkets which not even the captain knew the purpose of and one large machine which he most certainly did know rather well.  An information storage unit, likely salvaged from the Vione wreck like everything else.  Knowing Folken, it had been properly cleaned and the information checked for damage but he wouldn’t know for sure until he powered it up.

Without waiting for the scholars permission, he walked over to the looming device and pressed the large black button located near the massive monitor before running his hands over several of the buttons below, keying in the complex code he’d long ago memorized.  It was hard not instantly inputting his own authorization, but he knew that there was no way he’d have clearance for Madoushi level research.  Folken however was another matter, and he’d made a point of memorizing the Strategos’ code shortly after their initial meeting.  While he’d never actually planned to make use of this forbidden knowledge, he’d long ago learned to notice and mentally file away all sorts of interesting tidbits he came across.  It was one of many survival tactics which had helped keep him alive over the course of his life and once again, it was paying off.

Naturally, the barbarians all jumped back in shock as the machine hummed loudly and the screen lit up with static.  There were a few dark shadows present on the screen indicating minor damage to the crystal matrix behind the glass, but the screen as a whole seemed to be working well enough.

“You… you know how to work this thing?”  Van asked, his voice filled with awe.  The scrawny barbarian likely figured that this was some sort of divine viewing window of the gods or some such nonsense, earning a contempt filled snort from the captain.

“No, I’m clearly just pushing buttons and hoping for the best.”  He shot over his shoulder as he began to navigate through Folken’s dizzying file system, wondering where he’d hidden his top secret information.  Hmm, maintenance reports, system analysis report, mission logs, map logs, water consumption rates, discipline reports… that might be fun to go through later.  Everything was rather mundane so far so he delved deeper into the systems while the others all stared in rapt attention.  Even the Scholar was shocked at how easily he was navigating through the machine, his squinting eyes struggling to translate each file name as they flashed across the screens.

It was with a wide grin of victory that Dilandau finally located the files in question.  It was a simple unmarked system but was suspicious by the sheer size and the fact that it came with several rather impressive security encryptions ready to run alongside it.

“Tsk tsk Folken, not trusting your peers.  Interesting.”  He murmured, ensuring that the encryptions were running before daring to open the link that would enable him to slip into the secure systems back at the Captial.  While he had no doubt that most of the Madoushi systems had been dismantled, they likely would have gone to great lengths to hide their precious mainframe, trusting in secrecy to allow it to remain undetected during the scourge.  At least, he hoped it was still running.  If not, he’d be limited to whatever files Folken had immediate access to and Dilandau knew for a fact that he hadn’t been intimately involved with his Master’s experiment.

Almost immediately, the screen filled with even more ornate and alien symbols as a vast array of menu’s opened up for them, as well as a rather helpful little notice that their intrusion was currently hidden from notice.

“This… this isn’t what I’d originally found on this device.”  Scholar Inverness murmured in obvious awe as he stared at the unintelligible writing.  While he couldn’t make sense of the symbols, he was familiar enough with the shapes and patterns on the local system to know that Dilandau was doing something vastly more impressive than what he’d originally been led to expect.

“I’m full of surprises.”  The teenager replied, his crimson eyes studying all of the filenames, wondering which of the codes would pertain to his project.  There were so many… each one likely condemning hundreds of people to a painful death in one way or another.  It was moments like this that he was glad that he’d been spared the annoyance of a conscience or else the implications would likely make him sick.

“What are we looking at?”  Gaddes spoke up, staring at the strange symbols in rather frustrated confusion.  He loathed not being able to help in any way, but this was so far above his paygrade that it was laughable.

“Project names.  This is everything the Madoushi were working on over the past century or so… needless to say, they’ve been busy.”  Pale lips turned up in a wry smile as he continued to search, idly noting the fanciful names the sorcerers seemed to enjoy giving to each one of their vile experiments.  Gorgons, Uroboros, Lilim, Ragnarok, Yygdrasil, Mjolnir, Nephilim… honestly, he couldn’t pronounce half the names, it was like they were either a random combination of letters or something from another world…wait…

“Gaddes…”  His voice sounded strained and he knew that his fingers were trembling slightly, sensing that the answered were growing closer by the second.  “That name… or word, whatever it was… the one from the Mystic Moon, what was it?”  He knew it, it was burned into his very bones, but he wanted to hear it, as if doing so would make it more real… give it weight.

“Eidolon?”  There it was, the symbols glowing on the screen, daring him to open the files and fill the holes in his mind.

“Yeah… there it is…”  A code was needed to open it but that was simple enough.  Folken’s wasn’t the only code he’d made a point of memorizing.  Master Shroden had made very little effort to hide his codes when they were in the lab together.  Dilandau couldn’t even guess at the number of hours he’d lain there on the table watching the man record his findings after each vicious session of torture.  Watching the screen had been an escape of sorts and he’d studied every symbol, every keystroke with desperate intensity.  The had been burned into his brain, never to be forgotten no matter how often his brain had been turned inside and out… just like how he’d never forget the man’s smile, his eyes… or his touch.

All too soon, the file opened as easily as a dockyard whore and he slipped in, wishing that he’d come up with a better mental comparison.  Hundreds of files filled the screen, bearing numbers, dates, subject codes…

Unable to help himself, he idly flipped through several of them, his hands seeming to move of their own volition.  Without even realizing it, he began to read the files out loud to the rest of the room.

“Eidolon Project:  Fate Alteration Soldiers.  Project objective: to locate and control individuals bearing a high saturation of fate particles.  Subjects will have the level of particles within them enhanced and harnessed in order to alter their destinies in controlled circumstances.  In recreating new and differing destinies, it is theorised that we will be able to harness that power on a potentially greater scale while creating a new generation of battle ready soldiers wholly loyal to the Empire and capable of sustaining the New World Order.

Project head:  Zane Shroden, secondary lead:  Viktar Slazar.  Subject list 01-52 numbered arbitrarily.  Subjects acquired from various nationalities and walks of life, control specimens 53-65.

Subjects will be altered through the use of chemical (H1 section T1-V15), genetic: (T25 section L1-R5) and  Psychological Manipulation (D15 section A4-F32).  Project status: Ongoing.

Subjects will be contained within a closed environment and closely monitored until project reaches stage 12.  Stage 12-15 will involve closely monitored exposure to live battle situations.  Stage 15-19 remaining Subjects will be fully integrated into army ranks with progress closely monitored.”

Dilandau paused for a long moment, the tip of his tongue moistening his lips as hazy puzzle pieces began to form connections in his brain.  There was nothing concrete beyond a growing sense of awareness, but he could feel the answers dancing just beyond his reach. 

Fate particles?  He’d heard the term often enough during the “tests” but never quite in that context.  What he did know was that everyone had these particles inside them, they saturated Gaea itself, hypothetically left over from Altantis or some such nonsense.  The strength of one’s particles and how they interacted with the world at large determined what sort of fate a person would expect.  Of course, there were always mitigating circumstances, but the Madoushi, and more importantly, The Emperor had believed that the theory was sound.  

Glancing down at his hand, he struggled to find something that might set him apart from the others in the room, trying to imagine miniscule particles whizzing around him, through him, deciding his fate from the instant he’d been born.   Had he really had a grand destiny laid out before him?  No… not him… her.  It had been Celena’s destiny, not his.  Stolen from her, twisted warped and manipulated into his own.  He truly was nothing but a mystical parasite wasn’t he?

What of the other children like him?  Had they also been living stolen lives?  Struggling through a nightmarish existence, bodies covered in wounds, their eyes flat and cold, none daring to show even a moment of weakness to each other.  He could almost see their faces flickering behind his eyes and it prompted him to break off the senseless scientific babble and open up the actual subject files.  Paying no attention to the others standing behind him, he wasn’t even aware of the scholar’s quill hastily scratching out everything he read.  All that mattered was filling the gaping holes in his memory.

The first file opened, showing the blank guarded face of a small boy, thin, ruddy complexion and obviously scared out of his mind as he stared into the lens of the shadowgraph.

“Subject 13:  Acquired from Fanelia, Rumman village.  Deceased.  Sub project failure due to inability to properly integrate solution 30A5 into the endocrine system.  Thyroid gland has swollen by .35 inches and begun to degrade while adrenal system reached toxic levels…

_He’s been a slight boy with black hair dusky skin and eyes so brown they looked black though they were almost always downcast.  While not as strong as the others, he’d been quick, able to avoid most attacks with catlike grace but had begun to experience episodes of light headedness and dramatic mood swings which couldn’t be easily controlled._

_He’d screamed as they’d beaten him to death.  Each one of the other subjects holding a heavy rock in their hands, stained up to the elbows in blood.  There was no begging for mercy, none of them understood that concept, instead, it was a simple primal sound as he fought against the others for a few more moments of tortured life._

_Dilandau’s blood had sung with the kill, each time the rock had struck soft flesh he’d heard bones shatter until they broke through the pale skin in more places than could easily be counted.  Rather than feel any concern for the other child, he’d only felt elation in the kill, the joy of obeying his orders and knowing that his Master would be pleased.  Beneath that was the relief that it wasn’t him.  He’d performed well enough during their tests to be spared for another day._

_The stone struck again and again, the screams wavering, growing weaker and finally dying altogether._

“We beat him to death with rocks.”  He murmured, the memory of that moment filling his mind with startling clarity where once there’d been nothing.  It confused him as to why this memory had been hidden from him.  It was hardly the worst thing he’d ever done to another person.

Behind him, the others all gasped in horror at the revelation and he opened up a file picture of the dissection which had followed.  Each organ neatly lay out on the table and labelled; the extensive damage clear to everyone.  He looked around eight years old.

“You… you did that to him?”  Van gasped out in disgust, unable to tear his eyes away from the disgusting image and bristling with utter outrage at the torturous death of a countryman.

“Yes.  We all did.”  He could still feel the phantom rush of adrenaline at the killing, hear the echoes of the screams… both from the victim and the other subjects as they released all of their pent up pain, terror and rage on one of their own.  “Anyone who didn’t would share his fate.”

Suddenly tired of the picture, he opened another file.

“Subject 21: Acquired in Palas Asturia.  Deceased.  Post mortem shows instability due to TC imbalance.  Attempts to stabilize caused cascading system failure as subject began to split into incomplete reversion…”

_The boy was bound tightly to the metal table but that didn’t prevent him from shrieking so loudly that his voice shattered within moments, leaving only a hideous wheezing sound to gurgle through the ruins of his throat.  He thrashed so violently that one of his arms broke, the bone sawing away at pale tender flesh in his struggles, unnoticed when compared to the rest of the agony which consumed him.  Dilandau had watched in shock as a hand reached out from the depths of the other child’s body, slender fingers spread wide, grasping for purchase as the child within tried to tear its way out._

_He’d never heard screams like that, which was impressive because screams were the most common sound to hear in the lab._

_Knife in hand, he stared in fascination as the glowing liquid being pumped into the bound child seemed to glow even brighter, tracing a shining path through the child’s veins, causing his thrashing to grow even more violent until finally, like a cord being cut on a puppet, the child fell still.  Bloody froth dripped from his lips as his eyes stared sightlessly forward… they’d been beautiful eyes._

“He died on the table.”  Dilandau said in a voice which was distant with memory.  “I was there… I’d snuck out of my cell when the door didn’t lock properly… I saw him die.  Something was inside him, another child.  It was trapped in his belly somehow and was clawing its way out.

Another file, another tortured life snuffed out.

“Subject 01:  Acquired from Thanus Caesaria.  Deceased.”

_A brown haired boy with smooth olive skin collapsing in the middle of the practice field, blood violently hemorrhaging from every orifice on his body.  He’d tried to scream but was drowning in his own fluids.  Class had continued around him as he died thrashing in the sand.  His passing had been all but ignored by his peers._

“Subject 14:  Acquired from Duantha temple Freid.  Deceased.”

_Dark hair matted with blood, eyes so bloodshot they looked crimson.  The boy had laughed as he drove his own knife into his belly over and over again screaming that it was the only way to free the demon.  Blood and entrails had covered the sand of the training room but the child had survived for a remarkably long time, continuing to tear himself apart and laugh until there was nothing left of him but raw meat._

“Subject 17: Acquired from Volgate Basram.  Deceased.”

_A rope around Dilandau’s neck threatening to cut off his air and it would have done so if he hadn’t been quick enough to get his fingertips between the thin cord and his throat.  There was a weight pressing down on his back, trying to bear him down to the ground as another child kicked at his midsection. The blow misses his ribs but drives what little oxygen he has in his lungs out.   Darkness edged around his vision but he could still see well enough to notice the glint of light on metal as a third child approached._

_Grabbing the tightening cord around his neck, he threw his weight forward, dropping down to the floor; he tossed the boy behind him into one of his approaching attackers, knocking them both to the ground.  The dark grey eyes of his would be assassin glare at him, filled with undisguised hatred and lips pull back into a bestial snarl.  The boy is heavy in build compared to himself, skin swarthy and hair dark brown.  Without thinking, Dilandau lashes out with his foot, driving his heel into the throat of the larger boy, hearing the satisfying crunch of cartilage and bone as Subject 17 falls to the floor, his throat crushed._

“Subject 41: Acquired from Althen Ceasaria.  Deceased.”

_Fingernails clawing at his hands as the boy struggled for air, unable to fight his way up out of the water.  Laughter pours from Dilandau’s mouth as he thrills at the other child’s struggles, loving the power of life and death he holds in his hands. Ignoring the pain of the scratches, he instead tightens his grip, feeling the other child’s struggles grow more and more desperate before finally ceasing altogether.  For good measure, he continues to keep the boy beneath the surface of the lake, ensuring that he’s not faking.  After a minute, he released his rival, letting the body sink down into the black depths.  He feels warm inside as he idly licks at the bloody wounds on his hands, enjoying the coppery taste before his hands slide down his body as the pleasure inside him builds.  Some victories are worth celebrating._

Over and over he read the names and details of the horrifically short lives of the various test subjects.  Cold empty words described their captures, their torments and eventually, their deaths.  All the while, memories assaulted him.  Some had died when their bodies failed them, unable to handle the strain of the experiments.  Others took their own lives, desperate to find a way to escape the endless agony.  Most… Most were torn apart by their peers for the great and terrible crime of showing weakness, of failing at a task or showing a single shred of humanity.  It was the stuff of pure nightmare and he knew without looking over his shoulder that the others in the room were pale with shock at the horrors Dilandau had grown up with and endured.

 

“Subject 28: Acquired from Themus Daedalus.  Deceased.”

_Tender lips brushing his, slender fingers tangling in his hair as panting breaths combine while their bodies surge together, overwhelmed with sensation.  It’s so different from what he’s known before and it ignites a fire inside him, one he doesn’t want to ever see snuffed.  Eyes as gold as the sun stare into his, shining with the shock of discovery as they both collapse into a sweaty spent heap.  Idly, he toys with brilliant crimson hair, admiring the contrast against his pale fingers, marvelling at how this beautiful rival embodies the two things he loved the most; Blood and fire.  They’re so perfect together, so dangerous and as they lay there in the darkness, bodies entwined, they promise to find a way for both to survive._

_“Kill him.”  The Master must be obeyed at all costs, to refuse is death, but Subject 28 has done just that, refused the living gods which are the Masters.  He’s refused to kill a small girl, just a tiny wretched little thing that likely wouldn’t survive on her own anyway.  Still, he throws his knife down into the dirt, golden eyes defiant for the first time in memory.  Dilandau can feel the dread inside him rising with every passing moment, only to reach its pinnacle with those two horrible brutal words._

_Kill his Sun, the only thing in his life which isn’t comprised wholly of pain and terror… snuff out the beautiful fire which had promised to be there forever at his side.  They were supposed to survive!  They were the strongest, the most ruthless!  They were the pinnacles of the experiment!  Why would he refuse the command?  The girl was going to die anyway, what did her life matter?  The two of them had been chosen by the Emperor Himself!  They were going to have names!  Identities!  They were going to be real people with real lives!  How could he do this when they were so close!_

_“Subject 35, follow your order.”  The Master repeated, the threat in his voice making Dilandau shudder in dread.  He knows that he’ll be punished severely for hesitating.  He’s never balked at an order no matter how horrible, no matter how painful… never until now._

_The memory of soft lips sear his skin as he draws his own knife and walks over to his Sun with agonized steps.  He doesn’t dare weep even though something deep inside him is screaming for him to stop.  Memories of beautiful passionate cries fill his ears as the weapon is raised, the sharp edge shining cruelly in the cold light of the room.  Rather than fight, his precious Sun raises his chin defiantly, standing between death and the child he’s chosen to protect with his life._

_“Don’t forget me.”  His Sun murmurs softly.  “Don’t let them take it all away.  You’re my starlight.”_

_“Make it hurt.”  The Master orders, a vicious smirk on his lips and though it shatters something deep inside his soul, Dilandau obeys._

 

He’s visibly trembling as he reads the cold detached report of the torturous life and vicious death of Subject 28… his Sun.  He’d forgotten… how had he forgotten?  Slender white fingers curl up into tight fists and he’s ready to drive them through that hideous screen, as if that would bring him back, as if that would give him his Sun, his precious living fire.

For a long moment, he falls silent, staring at the screen, a the heartless words which eat into his brain, unlocking the memories of every cruel cut he’d made with his knife, every agonized scream wrenched from a voice which had previously cried out in pleasure at his touch.  They’d only been thirteen, days away from freedom.  It had been his final test, the ultimate proof of loyalty and he’d passed it beautifully.  He’d earned his name, won escape from the hellish labs but in the end, he’d done it alone, breaking the one promise which had ever meant a damn to him.

“He… he was a friend.”  Dilandau finally murmured, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath.  “He was my greatest rival, the only other subject to pass all their tests… save for the last one.”

Opening up a picture file, he stared at the beautiful face he’d so callously forgotten, marvelling at the cruel hard eyes, the thin line of his mouth and the harsh way his long hair had been pulled back out of his face.  Despite the cold austerity of the picture, there was something so vibrantly alive, a sense of the beautiful and brilliant spirit that had burned within… his Sun.

“We don’t need to keep going you know.”  Gaddes murmured softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “If it’s too much for you, we can do this again later.  You don’t have to push yourself like this.”

With a snarl, Dilandau jerked his shoulder away, practically bristling with anger.

“Do you think the Madoushi will stop what they’re doing just because I’m uncomfortable?”  He all but hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously.  “I’m not like that weak willed moon bitch who will just step back and refuse to suffer any inconvenience even though I’m the only one who can provide needed information!  I lived through this once already, I can damn well read about it without falling apart like some little girl!”  Dimly, he was aware that he was yelling but simply didn’t care enough to try to stop.  Gaddes took a few steps back, shock clear on his face, followed by a stern look of resolution.

“He’s dead.  I killed him with my own hands and it was that bastards fault!  He should have killed the damn kid!  He shouldn’t have fought the Masters.  We both knew what would happen… He knew I’d be ordered to kill him!  It’s his fucking fault and I hate him for that!”

 

_Don’t forget me…_

The voice haunted him, the screams echoing through his mind were as familiar as those of the Dagonslayers and only now did he realize who it had belonged to.  Like the slayers, he’d been torn away because that great and grand Fate the Madoushi had laid out before him demanded that anyone close to him should die.   Van’s love saved the world.  His love destroyed it.  It was like some cruel twisted joke but Dilandau found himself trembling as he glanced over at Gaddes, staring at him like some hero, ready to step in between him and certain death.  The way his Sun had looked at him, throwing his life away so that Dilandau would pass the final test.

Was Gaddes going to be the next sacrifice to fate?  Was he going to have to watch yet another loved one die?  How many more were there going to be?  How long before he closed himself off from the world and simply accepted the nothingness that was his proper destiny? 

 _“The more that destiny is altered, the more it will seek to reassert itself.  Therein lies the greatest flaw in the Emperor’s grand design.  What shattered Atlantis will shatter Gaea.  That is the price mortals pay for meddling in the affairs of the gods.”_ Folken had spoken those words of warning once long ago to him and at the time he’d simply sneered in response, warning the Strategos of the price of his treasonous thoughts should he voice them again.  He’d had no idea that the Strategos had been referring to him, warning him of the pain and calamity which would dog his every step, battling endlessly against the many victories heaped on his name.

NO!  Dammit, he couldn’t think that way!  So what if he was cursed because of what the Madoushi had done.  He would survive!  He would keep going and damn anyone else!  All that mattered were his goals!  His grand and glorious destiny!  He just… he wished he didn’t always have to be so alone.

“I’m fine.”  He murmured softly, taking a deep and bracing breath as he looked back up at the screen and the endless parade of horrors it offered.  Absently he waved Gaddes away, loathing the feeling of the man’s hovering but ironically, needing it as well.

Feeling more than a little disjointed from his fingers and what they were doing, he opened up the file he’d been secretly dreading looking at and began to read.

“Subject 35:  Acquired from Palas Asturia… Active.”  The words caught the attention of everyone in the room and he heard someone gasp softly, the sound muffled through hands.

“Is that you?”  Gaddes’ soft voice asked, filled with concern and unspoken support.  Unable to answer properly, Dilandau simply nodded his head and continued reading.

“Subject 35, Female  Hair: blonde  Eyes: blue  Age 5  Height: 107cm  Weight: 17 kg  No discerning birth marks, small scar on right scapula.  No other identifiable marks present.  Physical examination shows that subject is a prime candidate for the Eidolon project with fate particle count at 354pm and the potential to grow exponentially during the onset of puberty. 

Subject placed in solitary confinement upon arrival.  Control category D15A25 assigned, process will begin once the subject has been rendered tractable.  Begin administration of Topalaze AC at .25ml every 5 hours.  Neoparsin 1.3ml every 3 hours, Zadax 2mg every 5 hours.”

“That doesn’t help us Dilandau.”  Van cut into the ongoing monotone reading of chemical cocktails, his voice rich with warring disgust and horror.  “None of us know what any of that means.  Do you?”

Crimson eyes broke away from the screen and glanced over in the king’s direction, irritation filled their gaze at being interrupted.

“Topalaze AC is a depressant, meant to wear down the will of the individual and make them more tractable.  It’s used in work camps commonly to prevent any attempts at uprisings.  Neoparsin stimulates the adrenal gland giving a rush of energy to the endocrine system.  It also causes anxiety, agitation and prevents sleep when taken at that dosage level.  Zadax is a hormone suppressant.  Female soldiers are often issued it to prevent pregnancies and lessen the pain of menstruation.  Giving it to a child of five… they were likely preparing her body for the change.  The next one, Varamium142 is a chemical that agitates the Fate Particles… it’s like having acid poured through your veins for hours.”  He shuddered slightly at the memory of the pain and how he’d torn at his restraints like an animal, desperate to escape the agony.

“And they gave you all of those drugs?  Over and over again?”  Van stared at the screen, aghast at what it was saying.

“Not me.  Celena.  I wasn’t anything more than a sick plan at this point.”  Van winced as if he’d been visibly struck and gave his head a slight nod before once again plowing ahead.  “What about this Control Category thing?  That might be important to know how they were keeping control over you… they might be doing that with these new soldiers too.”

Pale lips thinned as he pressed them together, annoyed at having the progress interrupted to chase after loose bits of information and truthfully… he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what leashes he had wrapped around his neck.  His skin was crawling and his stomach clenched at the thought of opening the file, warning him that deep down inside, he knew that the answers found within weren’t going to be good ones.  Honestly, couldn’t he just read about how he was tortured?  It would be less horrifying.

Yeah, and then he could be no better than that moon bitch, avoiding her duties because she didn’t want to suffer.  Well he was nothing like her!  He wasn’t going to shy away from pain or fear!  He was Dilandau Fucking Albatou and he didn’t back down from anything!

With perhaps a tad too much force, he punched in the keys to direct them to the sections on the Eidolon Projects controls and quickly navigated his way to D15A25.  No one said anything as he began scouring the files for the appropriate section, likely seeing the heated glare in his eyes or the force with which he was pressing the keys.

“D15 section A.   Anchors:  Subject will be exposed to prolonged and regular isolation in order to break down their will.  Psychological tests have shown that young humans after an extended period of isolation will imprint on the first individual they come into contact with, their fragile minds seeing them as a source of security.  As such, they will be easily tractable towards orders and will extend themselves in all ways in order to please their benefactor.  This process will be repeated regularly to ensure that the subject is incapable of resisting commands given by the Anchor.” 

_Trapped in the little room, staring for hours at the walls until his mind painted brilliant realities to hide him away from the world around him.  Crying out endlessly for someone to rescue him, seeing fleeting images of a tall golden man, always just out of reach no matter how hard he chased him.  Feeling the emptiness crushing down on him until he couldn’t breathe, knowing that he could die in the darkness and no one would know for hours… days…weeks, however long they’d left him this time._

_The sound of the lock turning, the door opening up.  A gust of fresh air, carrying the sounds and scents of the corridor beyond.  He could hear the screams of the other subjects, the sound of boot heels on metal and the distant thrum of the lab machines.  All of it is overwhelming, but it pales in comparison to HIM, the tall figure who filled the doorway, his presence so powerful that it pressed down on the small body in the cell._

_Seeing another person, hearing them speak… feeling the touch of flesh and the warmth of another living thing anchoring him to this world…it was like a key being turned in his soul and he knew that he could never deny this living god anything!_

“Subsection 25:  Subjects dependency will be reinforced with physical rewards.  Punishments will result in sensory deprivation for extended periods of time, chosen randomly.  Physical reinforcements will contain grooming, bathing…”  His voice trailed off as the read the words.  It was no surprise, the memories were there, they’d always been there, just another part of the twisted life he’d thought was normal for every child.  To know that it was a control… that it was a reward to keep him in line like a dog with a bone was humiliating.  Suddenly all the whispered jokes, the barely veiled innuendo’s which had always haunted him his entire military career made far too much sense.

How many had known?  Was it just his Master?  Were there others?  His stomach churned as he remembered his orders to seduce Folken upon transferring to the Vione.  At the time he’d thought that it was just a way for his Masters to manipulate the stalwart Strategos… he hadn’t once thought that it was so that the man could rule him with impunity.  It had been a bitter joke he’d shared with Gatti, how Folken  must have been a eunuch to be able to resist finding the beautiful albino sprawled out in his bed, ready to please him.  Gods… if the man had taken him as his Masters intended… he’d have been a slave!  Panic warred with horror and something in the deepest darkest depths of his mind began to scream.

“Dilandau?”  It was Gaddes this time, his voice wary and hesitant, wanting to reach out and offer comfort but unsure as to how it would be received.  “Dilandau, what does the rest say?  What did they do to you?”  By the weight behind his words, he seemed to have already guessed it

“…sexual.”  Dilandau ground out the word, hating the fact that it seemed to make all of those memories of every single touch so much worse than they were.  “They raped me, and I let them.  I welcomed it because it was better than being left alone in the darkness.”  He chuckled softly, the sound brittle and ragged.  “Anytime I refused to let them touch me… anytime I refused to touch them, they would simply leave me alone in my cell.  Days… weeks, I never know how long it would last.  By the time they came back, I’d be willing to do anything just to have something remind me that I was alive.  I even grew to enjoy it and looked forward to it.  It meant that I’d done well, that I’d pleased them.”

He shrugged and straightened up, glaring at them all defiantly, daring any of them to give him one useless pity filled word.  Just one… he’d tear their damned throats out.

“Compared to being cut apart or having burning chemicals running through my veins, being fucked was a relief so don’t you dare look down on me.”  His lips pulled back from his teeth as he spat out the words.

All of his life, he’d thought that it was normal, that all of it was normal and people just didn’t talk about it.  He’d never even mentioned it to his Dragonslayers, though he had a feeling that some of them had figured it out.  He still vividly remembered one night waking up screaming from a nightmare of grabbing hands and twisted smiles to find Miguel holding him gently and whispering sweet promises of protection.  It had seemed almost funny at first, the idea of anyone protecting someone as fierce as Dilandau.  Still the feel of those arms around him had given him a sense of security he’d never before experienced and he’d felt himself coming undone with every whispered word.

Miguel… who Van and his friends had helped kill…who’s body they’d left stripped down and abandoned in the woods for the scavengers to tear apart… his beautiful precious Miguel.

“It was this Shroden guy?”  The runt King asked, his voice filled with so much concern that it was an insult, no doubt hiding his amusement at having his long time enemy brought low.

“Why Van?  Wanting a mental picture?  I’m sure there’s a few shadowgraphs in my file.  I can print them out for you if you want.”  He spat out viciously, taking a small measure of pleasure in seeing Van jerk back, his dark eyes wide at the level of sheer loathing in his voice.  “Would you like to know how many?  How often?  Did you want the details so you could savour it all while you rubbed one out tonight?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!”  Van yelled back angrily, his own fragile control slipping in the face of so much horror.  “I want to help!”

“You killed the only people who helped me!  You took them away from me one by one!  You left me with nothing you bastard!”  Van knew that it wouldn’t take much to finally push Dilandau off the edge.  He could see it in those wild crimson eyes and the way the teenager was visibly shaking.  All it would take was a few well-chosen words and he’d likely tear apart every sense of self-worth the Dragonslayer ever had and honestly, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to how sweet a prospect that was. 

Before he could open his mouth and shatter any possible hope of an alliance between them both, he glanced back at the machine, recalling the dead eyes faces of all of those children, the pain and torment he’d just learned about.  Several of those children had been from Fanelia.  They’d gone through exactly what Dilandau had… any of those kids could have been him.  He was the right age after all and his Draconian blood would have made him a tempting target.  If it hadn’t been for his rank and title… he’d very likely have been snatched up and suffered right along beside the albino.

 Gods of Gaea, Dilandau had personally stepped in to stop that from happing just days ago.  The sudden weight of debt crushed down on him as he realized just how utterly the dragonslayer must hate him and how torturous his existence must have been, facing all of that alone with no one to turn to.

Van didn’t like feeling guilty, and he most certainly didn’t like feeling guilty over events that were beyond his control.  Yes, Dilandau and his men had chased him to ground in that final fight, but in the others place, would he have acted any differently?  He’d been given every possible opportunity in life to succeed.  He’d had a loving mother and father, a brother to look up to… even after Folken had turned his back on Fanelia, he’d still been there in his own misguided fashion, trying to help.  He’d had friends who stood by him and a cause to believe in.  It was easy for him to be the great hero king riding in to save the day.

What would he have been without that?  If all he’d known was abuse, pain and torture.  Would he have cared about the suffering of anyone around him?  Would he have just abandoned Hitomi upon arriving on Gaea?  Would he have used her as bait for the dragon?  How could he judge Dilandau by the same rules as himself when they literally came from completely opposite worlds?

Yet still, when it had truly counted, the albino had overcome his hatred and grudge.  He’d fought against years of conditioning and brutality to save an enemy.  No, he hadn’t been gracious about it, but the actions had been his own… especially if he took into account Gaddes’ claims that he’d actually convinced the older man to come along rather than being dragged into it unwillingly.  He owed Dilandau a huge debt and tearing open old wounds was a poor way to repay it.

“I can’t change the past.”  He finally said, looking up and staring into those wild crimson eyes and holding the stare.  “For better or worse, it’s brought us here to this point and all we can do is move forward.  All that I can do at this point is devote myself to ensuring that what happened to you never happens again.  You want to stop this menace and now I understand why.  What was done to you was monstrous.  I don’t even have the words to begin to describe it… and I don’t want to.” 

Dilandau seemed to lean back slightly, watching the king with suspicion filled eyes, waiting for the attack to come.

“I want to make those Sorcerous bastards hurt for what they did to my countrymen, for what they did to all those children… especially for what they did to you.  I might not like you Dilandau, but I respect what you’ve gone through.”

The two teenagers stared at each other in silence for what felt like hours before Dilandau finally huffed softly and turned back to the screen, typing in a few commands and taking them back to the original file.

“I think I’ve read enough about the mental controls for one night.”  He murmured softly.  “There’s more… I…I just don’t want to know about it yet.  That’s not saying I’m weak or can’t handle it!”  Crimson eyes glared at Van, daring him to argue this statement.

“Any information at this point is helpful.”  Was all Van replied with, feeling that this was a safe enough statement.  A quick glance off to the side showed a rather shocked Gaddes staring at the two teenagers, unable to comprehend the fact that they’d managed to defuse a situation between themselves… and without any massive property damage or loss of lives.  Honestly, it was sort of a record for them and Van promised himself a good stiff drink when he got back to his rooms.  He’d earned it today.

“Ok… there’s a list of various medicines and dosages to be given to Celena, I’ll spare you the reading of them since I’m not sure what half of these ones do… they didn’t use them on me so it was likely to build up her Fate Particles and break her will on some level.”  Dilandau picked up where he’d left off though he did spare the scholar a quick glance.  “I’ll write the list down for you if you want… and I shouldn’t have to warn you that if I hear about any word of those mental control protocols leaving this room, they’ll never find any identifiable remains.”

His smile held every bit of vicious promise that one might expect given the situation and Scholar Inverness swallowed audibly, nodding his head.

“None of this information will be released to the public.  I will not risk having such knowledge perverted again.”

“And the King?”

“The king has no interest in what we learn here.  This is your project.  However, if you do discover some enemy weakness, I’m duty bound to report it.”  The old man’s eyes softened for a moment and he offered the zaibach youth a yellow toothed smile.  “I do not consider the isolation and torture of a child to be of military importance… no matter who the child was.  You’re not our enemy after all.”

“And if I become one again?”  Van sighed and rolled his eyes in frustration.  Why did Dilandau always have to push that line?  Couldn’t he just be happy with the damn peace offering?  Rather than be offended, the old man simply smiled, reached out and boldly patted the albino on the shoulder.

“Son, if you become an enemy of Astoria again, I believe that what was done to you by the Madoushi will be the least of our concerns.”  Oddly, that seemed to mollify Dilandau, proving yet again to Van that the other teenager wasn’t quite put together properly in the head.

“I can accept that.”  Dilandau smiled slightly before turning back to read the reports.  “So then… blah blah, chemical cocktail, blah… Hey, Maristitone, I know that one, 5mg a day, it’s a powerful hallucinogen and is an instant court martial if you’re caught with that… I’m actually amazed that they didn’t kill Celena with the amount of crap they put in her.  No wonder she’s all screwed up in the head.”

Gaddes wanted to ask him what he meant by that but didn’t get a chance as Dilandau continued reading off various tortures as the Madoushi worked out the dosages and adjusting accordingly.  By the sounds of it, she’d almost died three times from organ failure and once from a bad reaction to one of the drugs.  Undaunted by the high potential of failure, the Madoushi continued.

There were side notes mentioning the growing concern over the rising fatalities amongst many of the test subjects.  Their small bodies were simply not strong enough to withstand the terrible energies tearing through them as the Madoushi sought to harness and alter their fates.

“It says here that to improve the survival rates, they began to work with blending the DNA of the child with various other hardier creatures, hoping to find some sort of magical combination… looking at the results doesn’t speak overly well of their success rate… most of them died.”  Dilandau murmured, opening some side files and glancing through them, skimming over the information quickly just in case it proved to be a dead end.

“Ugh, they crossed a few children with a Doppleganger… that’s disgusting.  Subjects 2,5,12, 14, 22 and 27 got blended with that monstrosity… good thing they’re dead, poor bastards.  They used beast man genes on Subjects 3,7,13,24,34,42 and 49.  Heh, that explains why Subject 13 was so bloody hard to hit, he must have been a cat.  Hey, maybe he was related to your kitten?”

“Just stick to the files Dilandau.”  Van snapped, privately relieved that the dragonslayer seemed to be getting some of his spirit back.

“Oh you’ll like this, Subjects 1,4,8,16 and 20 had actual Dragon genes!  I wonder if… nope, none of them could breathe fire… that’s a letdown.  Though Subject 16 did develop mild scaling along his spine and had an affinity for locating energist deposits… nasty temper too.  Too bad he died before my inception date.  I bet we’d have gotten along.”

“And what did they mix up to make you?”  It was a risk for Van to ask, but Dilandau seemed to take it well enough, flipping through various listings to locate his own number.  “I bet it was a feral dog, you have the right temperament for it… or a goose.  I’ve never particularly gotten along with geese.”  The dragonslayer responded by flashing the king some sort of hand sign which had the scholar sputtering loudly about manners and earning a faint chuckle from Gaddes.

Despite the forced lightness of the mood, it was obvious when Dilandau found his section because his already white skin turned a sickly grey and he had to catch himself as his knees threatened to collapse.

“Kid?”  Gaddes was at his side in an instant, lending what support he could, be it physical or mental.

“I… I think I’m done for the night…” Dilandau murmured, his voice faint with shock.  Everyone stared at the screen, as if their combined wills could somehow translate the strange symbols into something intelligible.

“What does it say?”  Van asked, growing more than a little worried.  He’d never seen his nemesis look this… broken.

“It doesn’t matter… It’s wrong…”

“Tell me what it says!”  The king ordered, fully expecting to get snapped at or even physically attacked for his assumptive tone of voice.  Instead, Dilandau seemed to fold in on himself, leaning against Gaddes who shot Van fearful looks.

“It says that … that they managed to find a sample that not only bolstered the host subject phsycially but gave their Fate Particles an unprecedented boost as well, but there was only enough of a sample for one subject…so they gave it to their most promising candidate.  It was a unique sample, the rarest creature on Gaea.  The notes said that clearly it was destiny.”  Van had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut as he mentally began going through how long ago Celena had gone missing… and when one of the rarest creatures in Gaea had vanished without a trace…

“Gods of Gaea no…”  He breathed out in horror.

“They… they found a Draconian… they made me using his flesh and blood… no wonder I’m cursed…”  With shaking hands, Dilandau quickly cut the connection on the machine, causing the screen to blacken once again.  “A fucking Draconian… they’re not supposed to even exist…”

“They do… there were two on Gaea.”  Van found himself murmuring.  “…One now.”  Gaddes looked over at Van, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked between the swaying albino and the Fanelian king.

“Folken.”  The sergeant gasped out, unable to hold his tongue.  Sadly, Van nodded his head, trying desperately not to even think of the implications behind all of this.  Folken… when Zaibach had saved him, they’d naturally taken advantage of the unique opportunity of having a Draconian at their mercy.  With their unique connection to Atlantis, it was no wonder why the energy wouldn’t boost that of the unfortunate test subjects.  After all, the Draconians were the first people to toy with fate.  It was in their blood, their very genetic structure... and now it was a part of Dilandau as well.

Gods of Gaea… they were brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... that happened. Surprise!  
> Dilandau is having a seriously crappy day and really, you know it's only going to get worse from here on in. A lot of those holes in his memory were likely self induced judging by the crap he's survived.  
> For anyone wanting to read a more detailed recounting of the demise of poor subject 21, feel free to read The Monster Within. As for Subject 28, I want to do more with him, the idea of these two tortured kids finding an island of sanity with each other is intriguing and really, his death is rather heartbreaking. Either way, his story isn't quite over with either as Dilandau learns more about himself.  
> As for the whole Folken thing... for me it answers a few questions (Like why the Escaflowne reacted so violently to Dilandau's touch) and opens up a whole realm of fuckery. I've been dying to do this reveal for most of the book ^_^
> 
> Next Chapter: The blows keep coming and no one is handling the surprises well.


	27. The Best Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group struggles to come to grips with what they've learned and make some terrible choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne. Never have, never will. sniffle. Not making money either.
> 
> So yeah, we're getting some big reveals, filling in some plot holes from the movies and learning more than most ever wanted to know about Dilandau. The poor kid. He's really having a crappy time of it and it's not going to get better for a while. 
> 
> Still dealing with the stupid lung infection which is pretty much killing my drive to do anything constructive, but special thanks to Drkstars for letting me bounce ideas off of her and tossing random paragraphs at her for suggested improvements... also for the improv Dilandau vs Van crack fights. They always crack me up.

                “Folken?”  Dilandau’s voice was soft but there was a strange quality to it, one none of them had heard before though it caused the hair to rise up on the backs of their collective necks.  “Folken was a Draconian?”  He sounded far too calm and collected considering the violence of his previous mood swings. 

                It was the sort of calmness which would have sent the Dragonslayers bolting from the room, scrambling over each other in their haste to escape the impending explosion.  Gaddes was familiar enough with the youth to know that something was seriously wrong and despite their audience, attempted to gently pull the traumatized teen into his arms.  It was his hope to head off whatever darkness was likely creeping through his lovers head by reminding him that he wasn’t alone. 

                “Of course he was…”  The teen continued, his voice sounding almost pleasantly dreamy and distant as he shrugged Gaddes’ hands away.  “He destroyed country after country, betrayed everyone he knew… left nothing but shattered lives in his wake… it makes perfect sense…”  Smiling faintly, he glanced over at Van, one hand idly reaching up to stroke at his scar.  “And I suppose you’re one too.  Yes… scarring me, ruining my beautiful face, slaughtering my team… Everything was so perfect until our paths crossed… until you cursed me… and now the curse is inside me… part of me…”  He giggled softly.  “All that time the Madoushi called me perfect… and they knew… they knew that they’d made me flawed…ruined me down to my bones and it’s all that bastards fault…”

                “Folken didn’t know what they’d done!  It’s not his fault!”  Van shot back, quick to defend his estranged brother even though he honestly had no real idea exactly how complicit Folken had actually been.

Speaking up, likely wasn’t the best decision at this moment because those glassy crimson eyes suddenly snapped into focus, fixed on him with an intensity that made the normally brave king step back.  Energist glow bled into the iris’ creating a deadly light that seemed to paralyze his legs and for the first time since the war, Van knew without a doubt that Dilandau was about to try to murder him.

                A desperate step back likely saved the kings life as steel slashed through there air where he’d been standing mere moments ago, a sharp whistle of displaced air following in its wake.  None of them had even seen him draw his sword.

                “YOU!”  The Dragonslayer snarled, pale lips pulling back to bare teeth even as he slashed again, the strike aimed to disembowel the monster who had haunted his every waking moment for a year and a half.  “DEMON!!! You cursed me!!  You tore everything apart!  You ruined my life!”  His voice rose to a shriek, the tip of his sword barely missing Van’s midsection as the darker teenager scrambled backwards, unable to even take a moment to draw his own weapon.

                “In my veins!  In my bones!  Eating away at me!  I can feel it crawling through me!  HE’S POISONED ME!!  GET IT OUT OF ME!”  Each shrieking accusation was met with another vicious slash.  Van scrambled backwards around the lab table and pressed his spine against Folken’s machine, his breath coming hard and fast in his shock.  Finally able to draw his own sword, he prepared to defend himself but as suddenly as the attack had happed, it stopped.  Dilandau stood there, blade poised to strike, his entire body shuddering as if fighting with itself.

                Before anyone could properly react, Dilandau reversed his sword so that it was aimed for his chest and Van saw the muscles in his arm tense as he prepared to drive it into his heart.

                “GET IT OUT OF ME!”  He screamed again in rage and frustration, but his arms remained frozen, the tip of the blade poised less than an inch away from his breast, wavering slightly as he struggled against some unseen foe.

                From where he stood, Van stared in mingled shock and horror, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing as the Dragonslayer’s eyes seemed to flicker between glowing hellish crimson, and a shining tear-filled azure blue.  “LET ME GO YOU BITCH!”  Dilandau shrieked in frustration, gritting his teeth as he tried to force his arms to obey him.  “IT’S MY BODY!” 

                All Van could do was stare dumbly at the surreal struggle taking place in front of him.  It was a vicious battle of wills and he had no idea which personality was winning, but it was clearly taking its toll on the body itself.  Blood began to trickle from both nostrils and sweat dewed the almost grey skinned forehead.  He knew he should do something to stop this, but honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to approach.  It was one thing to know that a person was mad… but to see it dragged kicking and screaming into the light of day was truly a nightmarish event, one he’d had little experience with.

                In the end, it was Gaddes who swiftly crept up behind the distracted teen, dagger gripped tightly in his hand.  For a moment, Van honestly thought the sergeant was going to stab the albino, but instead, Gaddes struck with the butt of the blade, driving it into the back of Dilandau’s skull with a rather sickening thunk.

                The sword dropped from nerveless fingers clattering loudly on the stone floor as those strangely flickering eyes rolled back into his head.    Without missing a beat, Gaddes caught Dilandau’s body just as his knees gave out and he carefully held the teenager tightly against his chest, dark fingers stroking through sweat matted silvery white hair.

                “Van…”  Gaddes’ voice was tight with strain and the king was shocked to see the sheer amount of emotional pain in the man’s dark grey eyes.  “Find some rope, I need his wrists tied up… when he wakes up, he’s going to try to kill someone.”  He didn’t dare speculate who his target might be though odds were good that his self-loathing would still keep the worst of his hatred aimed inwards.  The idea of restraining the troubled teen was pretty much one of the last things Gaddes wanted to do, especially considering everything they’d learned tonight.  Jeture, just thinking about what Dilandau had endured growing up…It was sickening.

                Worse was the sudden wave of guilt which tore through him at how he’d likely taken advantage of the pale youth.  He’d been programmed to see sex as a reward, as an emotional fulfillment from an authority figure… and Gaddes had happily gone right along with it.   Had Allen sensed that trap?  Was that one of the reasons he’d been so adamant about keeping his distance from Dilandau despite their history together?  Dammit!  How could he be so stupid!  He was no better than those sorcerer bastards, taking advantage of a scared and lonely kid! 

                Even as he held that limp fragile body against his own, his stomach roiled at the thought of how much of a sick monster he was.  _You took advantage of him._   His thoughts sounded an awful lot like the Boss and he cringed internally.  _He trusted you to protect him, he looked to you for guidance and you just couldn’t wait to get between his legs.  Look at him!  Why would someone like him be interested in a lowborn scruffy bastard like you?  Easy, he’d been trained to imprint on a person… and there you’d been, always there to help, always nearby being supportive, building him up, telling him that you’d be there… holding him… fucking him…_

“What in the name of every god and goddess on Gaea was that?”  Palos finally spoke up, sounding aghast at what he’d just witnessed.  “That was… it was…”

                “It’s something we’re not going to talk about.”  Gaddes growled in a low warning voice, sparing the messenger a dark glare, his fingers still gently stroking Dilandau’s hair, unable to stop despite his own inner turmoil.

                “But… who was he fighting against?  Does his mean he and King Fanel are related?  I… I don’t understand what’s going on.  All of this is… it’s impossible!”

                “My guess is he was fighting Celena.”  Van spoke up, holding up some thin flexible tubing in his hands, scavenged from a nearby shelf.  He wasn’t even going to ask why Folken had it tucked away down here.  “His eyes kept changing colour…It means she’s not gone… we can still get her back.”  It wasn’t hard to hear the hopefulness in his voice at the prospect of at least some normalcy coming out of this mess.  “Allen will be pleased to hear that…not so much with the rest though.”  He added, glancing at the strange screen which had shown them the damning information.

                Reaching out, he began to carefully tie the wrists of the other teen, his dark eyes glancing up and fixing on Gaddes’, noting the guilt shining in their depths.

                “You do realize that you can’t keep sleeping with him… not after this.”  He murmured softly.  “It’s not healthy for him… and it’s not right.  What they did to him… it’s disgusting.  Not even he deserved that.”

                “I… I know.”  Gaddes found himself murmuring, doing his best to not notice the growing ache in his chest at the thought of never holding this beautiful creature in his arms again, never sharing those moments of openness and utter trust.  Of course, that trust had been artificial, programmed by monsters to push the kid into obeying whoever was taking advantage of him.  Ugh… had Folken  Oh Jeture… that was too horrible to even think about, no wonder the kid was so upset, it was like finding out he’d just had sex with his father…That’s just what Dilandau needed on top of yet another identity crisis.

                All in all, Gaddes supposed he couldn’t really fault the kid for reaching the end of his rope… no one could be expected to gracefully handle all that they’d learned in the past few hours.

                “Look… about him attacking you…”

                “We’ll see what he’s like after he has a chance to digest all of this.  I can… I suppose after all this,” Van waved a hand at the machine which had started this avalanche.  “It’s sort of understandable that he’d freak out… I should have been ready for it honestly.  This is Dilandau after all.  He’s not the sort to handle surprises well… I just wasn’t expecting him to try to kill himself.” 

                The king chewed lightly on his lower lip as he finished trying off the tubing, making sure that it was tight enough to hold a violently struggling teenager, but not threatening to cut off circulation.  Who knew how long they’d have to keep him bound like this.

                Katz’ warning from a few days ago flickered through his mind, about how Dilandau had already tried to end his life several times.  Just how unstable was the Dragonslayer captain?  Could they count on him at all with this upcoming war?  Was the promise of revenge enough to hold his self-loathing at bay?  After all this time of wishing the vicious albino dead, the king felt a shiver of dread at the thought of what the repercussions would be if that actually happened.  Hitomi had warned that they were both necessary to stop the destruction of Gaea… but how could they win this war when they couldn’t trust Dilandau with a damn blade let alone a guymelef?

                “Do you think he’s going to try it again?”  Palos spoke up once more, making both men glare at him coldly for his lack of tact.  True, he was just saying what all of them were thinking, but it still rankled the king.  “I… I’m just saying, because if he is… you might want to take his knives away too.”

                Both Van and Gaddes cursed softly under their breaths and while the sergeant held the dragonslayer up, Van quickly ran his hands over the albino’s body for his collection of hidden knives.  He’d only seen two so far, but it was a safe bet that the murderous teen had others hidden away just in case.  Dilandau was the sort who liked surprising his enemies after all and always made sure he had some sort of secret advantage.

                The ones tucked into his belt and boot were quickly removed and the search turned up two other wickedly sharp daggers and a small thin pin, likely snatched up off one of the Ladies during the duel in the courtyard.  Likely used for sewing or some such thing, the King had no doubt that Dilandau could no doubt use it in a lethal manner.  The search also turned up a few rolled up greyish looking leaves which Van wasn’t quite familiar with, but they strongly resembled Bergathort, a rather lethal plant if ingested. 

                Having no idea who it was intended for, he held it up to Gaddes somewhat accusingly.

                “You’re at his side constantly and you didn’t know he was carrying around poison?”  The Sergeant swallowed somewhat nervously, eyeing the leaves as if they might bite him.

                “I didn’t know he had those… and even if I did, I wouldn’t have known what they did.  You know I don’t know shit about green stuff.”  Van wanted to be mad at the man for his ignorance but he knew that few people were as familiar with Gaean flora as he was, and most of that knowledge had come from either Folken, or Rhum.  “You’re still too trusting Gaddes.”  He grumbled softly, tossing the leaves to the floor and grinding them under his boot heel.  “Just because he’s… compliant with you doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous to everyone else.  You need to pay attention and keep an eye on him.”

                The sergeant looked utterly admonished and stared down at the ground.  Van wanted to point out that the man was still holding the damn Dragonslayer like a lover, cradling the pale head against his chest and stroking him tenderly.  For all they knew, Dilandau could be faking his unconsciousness and just waiting for a chance to attack again.

                “We need to get him back to his room.  I doubt he’s going to be at all cooperative once he wakes up.”  He said instead.  Lectures weren’t going to accomplish anything at this point other than further wear at their collective nerves.  “Is there a sheet we can wrap him in?”  The king looked over at the scholar who had been doing his best to be unobtrusive while violence had erupted all around them.

                The man didn’t look overly pleased at being addressed in any form that might draw attention to him but feeling the weight of those sharp brown eyes on him, he slowly nodded his head.

                “Use my spare cloak.”  He murmured, unsure of how to react to everything that had happened though he did give the unconscious captain a look of concern.  “It will look less conspicuous… you can tell the guards he fell asleep.”  There was no need to point out that letting anyone know that the teenager had gone berserk and attempted to murder the Fanelian king… again.  All it would do was make everyone’s life more miserable and send Dilandau straight to a dungeon cell.

                Gaddes nodded his head in thanks as the scholar slipped away to fetch the cloak.  Emboldened by the stillness of the zaibach youth, Palos edged forward to peer at him curiously.

                “So…. Does that make him and King Fanel related?”  He pressed, always curious about political standings, especially concerning royals.  Gaddes couldn’t help but cringe inwardly at the question and Van shot the messenger a dark look.

                “No, it doesn’t.”  He snapped hotly.  “I’m not related to that monster!  He burned my country to ash!”

                “He burned Palas as well.”  Palos countered, surprising everyone by daring to argue with the young monarch.  “But Sir Allen and King Aston claim his ties to the Schezar family… if he was made from Lord Folken… doesn’t that make him his son?”  The astorian frowned slightly in though as he struggled to piece together the boys rather convoluted genetics.  “But then, if Lord Folken is his rightful father, then he’s not legitimately a Schezar… but he IS the Lady Celena right?  So how does that work exactly?  Oh Jeture… if you don’t have an heir, he’s the next in line for the Fanelian throne isn’t he?!”

                “Celena is a Schezar.”  Van spat out, bristling visibly at the messengers words and loathing the sickening churning in his gut at the implications of what was being said.  “Dilandau’s parentage is disgusting sorcery and lab tools.  He has no claim on any throne or title.”

                “”Van…”  Gaddes’s voice held a firm note of warning to it, chastising the king for his bigotry.

                “Yes, yes, he’s a person… however monstrous.”  Van replied curtly, doing his best to ignore the memory of pain and fragile pride he’d seen in the other youth’s eyes back when Dilandau had explained that he’d had a mother and father… that he was normal, like everyone else.  He was willing to accept the kinship with Allen, NOT with Folken.  A stolen life wasn’t a life and neither was a stolen family.  There was nothing linking the two of them together other than mutual loathing and an apparently shared destiny.  Believing anything else was just too much and Van certainly wasn’t ready for that leap.

                “So…. Why do you all keep referring to him like he’s two different people?  That’s the Lady Celena Schezar isn’t it?”  Palos motioned towards the still form as the Scholar returned with not only the cloak but a damp cloth to wipe up the blood on Dilandau’s face.  “She’s just a really confused woman.  I mean the file even said female, so why are we all calling her him?”

                Gaddes couldn’t help but cringe at the question and was infinitely grateful that the brat was unconscious.  Had he heard any of that, the messenger would have likely died before finishing the question.

                “They’re two totally different people in one physical space.”  The sergeant clarified, carefully bending down and scooping an arm under Dilandau’s legs so he could carry him properly.  It was hard to ignore how perfectly the lithe youth fit against his body, head resting gently on his shoulder, silvery white fringe partially obscuring the beautiful features.  Damn if the brat didn’t look like some innocent godling. 

                “Well… doesn’t it just make it worse to cater to the delusion?”  Palos pressed.  “I mean, she should be learning how to be a proper Lady… not conducting training sessions and piloting guymelefs.  It’s…. unseemly and perverse.”  He shot Gaddes a somewhat accusing look as he said the last word, wholly disapproving of their relationship on yet another level.  “She’s already ruined for a proper marriage, but at this rate, she’ll never-”

                “Palos, if you finish that sentence I swear on every one of Jetures scales that I will tie you up, give him a knife and tell him every single thing you just said about being ‘A proper Lady’”  Gaddes snarled heatedly.  There was enough anger behind his words that the messenger backed up a step, glancing nervously at the unconscious warlord. 

                “Zaibach sorcery didn’t just give Celena a new personality; it gave him a body as well.  Dilandau is male, physically and mentally.  Celena is female.  Don’t ask me how it works, I don’t know but I’m sure we’ll find out the more we read those damn files… if he even wants to look at them anymore after this.”

                “He will.”  There was a faint grudging note of respect from Van as he spoke and it was obvious that saying anything complimentary about the albino was costing the king greatly.  “Dilandau never backs down or gives up once he sets his attention on his prey.  I should know.”  Everyone grew silent for several long seconds, remembering the scope of the devastation the pale youth had caused in his pursuit of Van.  Several countries would be forever marked by his savagery.

                “And… and you’re really a Draconian?”  Palos couldn’t quite keep the awe and horror from his voice as he stared at Van in a new light.  It was easy enough to accept that Dilandau had demon blood flowing through his veins, the teenager was a blight on all of Gaea and brought pain and suffering wherever he went, but King Fanel was a hero!  Draconians were creatures of legend, mothers warned their children that if they were bad, the Draconians would come and spirit them away.  Crop blights, fires, plagues… all were blamed on the ancient and cursed race.  To know that he’d been travelling with one… that he was speaking to one of the legendary demons was… well, it seemed to follow along with how insane his life had become.

                He’d longed to be part of a heroic legend all his life, to battle monsters, to rise above adversity and rescue the fair maiden while saving his country.  Now, here he was, embroiled in a building war, speaking with a demon king, the fair maiden was a vicious warlord and enemy of his country and he really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do anymore.  This was all simply too much but as much as he desperately wanted to back away, he knew that he had to see this through.  He was the hero after all.  While he might not be able to fight an enemy melef single handed, or use strange twisted sorceries or even read evil mystical languages, he seemed to be the only one with the good of Astoria in his heart.  In the end, it was all going to fall on him, he could feel it.

                “Half Draconian.”  Van clarified, his cheeks colouring slightly as he spoke the rare admission.  “Half human, and before you start on some rant, I AM the rightful king of Fanelia.”  He rested his hand over the royal sword for emphasis, daring the astorian to contradict his claim.

                “And you all knew this?”  Palos glanced over at Gaddes, shocked that the uncouth crew of the Crusade had been able to keep such a secret.  Sure, there’d been rumours that King Fanel was something more than human, that he had some strange powers no one else on Gaea possessed, but no one had dared to go so far as to call him Draconian.

                “Yes I knew.”  The sergeant grumbled.  “And if I hear about you gossiping about it…”

                “I know, tied up, angry armed Dilandau.”  He sighed, desperately aching to be able to share such choice pieces of gossip.  What good was it to learn such legendary secrets if you couldn’t share them?  This was going to be torturous… but in the end, the payoff would be inclusion in this historical event.  Here he was on the inside, the inner circle of a legend in the making!  Bards would sing his name for centuries to come, his name, his house would be venerated!   His father might even cast aside his other brothers and name him heir despite being the youngest in line.  All for the simple price of his silence.  “You don’t need to threaten me.”  A confident smile tugged at his lips despite the suspicious looks he got from the two other men.  “I’m with you in this to the end.”

                “That’s great and all,”  Gaddes sighed, shifting Dilandau slightly in his arms, nervous about just how long the kid was going to be out cold.  “How about we discuss this in our room rather than down here.  Chances are that he’s going to give us all hell when he wakes up and I’d rather not have an audience.  No offence Scholar, I’m thinking more of the guards and anyone in the halls.”

                “None taken.”  The old man smiled slightly before reaching up and giving the unconscious youth a gentle pat on the shoulder.  “I can’t even imagine how upsetting this all has been for him.  Let him know that he’s always welcome down here, even if all he desires is to have a bit of space.”  Gratitude filled Gaddes at those words.  It wasn’t often that anyone extended a hand of friendship towards the hostile youth and Dilandau certainly hadn’t made the best of impressions today but he’d take what he could get.  “Come now, I’ll make sure to mention giving him something for a headache which put him to sleep, that should keep the gossip to a minimum.”

 

 

 

                _Agony.  It blinded him, filled him and became his entire world as the blood burned in his veins.  All around him were searing white lights which ate into his skull framed by shifting shadows.   Screams filled the air, two high pitched voices weaving in and out of each other as they cried out their suffering… children.  No… one child with two voices struggling for dominance.  Bones broke and reshaped themselves, the wet sound creating a gruesome counterpoint to the shrieks as they rose in pitch.  Muscles tore, organs atrophied in the blink of an eye only to regrow into strange new configurations.  The body struggled to remember its previous shape but was overruled by searing flashes of pain which built on each other, growing more and more intense as cellular structure broke down and the body began to shred itself  on a genetic level._

_Torturous consciousness continued through the entire process, tearing apart mind and soul until there was nothing left but pain.  Once that finally faded, there was only aching emptiness._

_He lay there on the table panting, his voice a soft moan which sounded alien and unfamiliar.  Above, the shadows moved, grew distinct in their forms, allowing him to see the silhouettes of tall figures, each wearing long cloaks, their eyes glittering with avarice and delight._

_“The operation was a success, total Fate Alteration.”_

_“Vitals are strong.  Temperature is higher than normal as are adrenaline levels.”_

_“That was expected.”_

_“Subject seems to be suffering from total albinism, unexpected.  Should we destroy it?”_

_“Not yet, the defect is minor.  It seems healthy enough.  The loss of pigmentation was likely a result of the massive stress on the cells.  The subject doesn’t appear to be adversely affected.”_

_“Look at the readings!  They’re the best we’ve had so far!  Fate Particles have already tripled and are still multiplying exponentially!”_

_“Don’t be too eager to claim victory, this is only the beginning.”_

_“We should create a second subject just in case… a failsafe.”_

_“Unfortunately the Emperor has only permitted us this one sample.  He has other uses for his prized pet.”_

_“Do you think that this one will sprout wings?”_

_“Unlikely, though it’s a fascinating prospect.  I want a full biopsy of all major organs.  We need to understand exactly what we’re now dealing with.”_

_“So soon after the alteration?  We might kill the subject.”_

_“Its vitals are stable are they not?  I see no reason to delay the tests.  Begin.”_

_One of the shadows leaned forward and there was a glint of harsh light reflecting off the razor edge of a blade.  More agony, sharper and more defined tore through him.  This time when he screamed there was only a single voice.  The light flared again, blinding and pitiless, blocking out everything else but the pain._

 

 

He was in the cell again, darkness pressing down on him, thick walls muffling away all outside noise so that the world was nothing more than the small dark cubic room.  Automatically, his eyes found the small stain on the wall, using it to ground himself the way he had since his earliest memories.  The sharp sound of his armoured boots on the floor provided small comfort and he could feel a chill sink into his skin, causing him to shiver.

                “How dare you.”  The voice was soft, dangerous and he spun around, his hands instinctively drawing his sword as two twin points of azure light glistened in the darkness.  “How dare you give up.”  He knew the voice, recognized it on such a deep level that despite its alien coldness it didn’t catch him by surprise for a moment.

                “You promised me revenge.”  The voice continued as the eyes rose up from their former position, low to the floor to draw level with his own.  “You promised to make them pay for every scream, you promised to make sure they wouldn’t hurt any other children.” The words cut like a knife; sharp, ruthless, and unforgiving, causing Dilandau to flinch at the anger behind them.

                “I will!”  He protested, taking a step forward, his fingers tightening their grip on his sword as his usual stubbornness rose up in the face of the challenge being thrown at him.  “I’m going to tear them apart and bathe in their blood!”

                “HOW?” Those blue eyes narrowed in the darkness, Celena’s body still obscured by shadows.  “How can you do anything when you’re dead?”  At her words his body grew cold, his fingers nerveless, nearly causing him to drop his weapon.  Dead?  No… he couldn’t be dead… Frantically he scoured his memories, cursing the many holes still filling his mind, turning any introspection into a mental minefield.

                “Didn’t think that far ahead did you.”  It was more of an accusation than a question, the words dripping with venom.  “You never think ahead, all you do is react and look where that’s gotten you.”   This time as he looked around the room it was with distinct trepidation.  Was he dead?  What had happened?  His mind struggled to remember.

                “You tried to kill yourself.  Again.”  Celena’s voice was flat and laden with contempt.  “I stopped you.”    The darkness shifted, parted around her… or what was left of her.  It looked like she’d been savaged by wild dogs.   

Her pale blue gown was torn, scraps of cloth dangled limply from their seams, revealing what astorian standards would consider to be a rather scandalous amounts of skin. Scratches marked her once smooth pale flesh, creating a network of vivid red lines several still bleeding and beneath them were rather livid bruises.  One eye was blackened and her lip was split viciously, fresh blood oozed down her chin and stained her teeth crimson.

He’d heard what had happened to her before he’d been thrust into the body and was rather sure that this was what he was looking at.  Much like himself, she was frozen as she’d been in those last moments of consciousness, her injuries following her into her subconscious prison. 

She’d fought her attacker, that much was obvious and he found himself respecting her just a little.  Judging by the amount of damage she’d sustained, it had been one hell of a fight.  _More than you ever did._ He found himself thinking.  _You just followed your orders and let them do what they wanted, so long as your Master was pleased…_   The memories were sickening, more due to his capitulation than the actual acts.  Still, he’d been taught quickly enough what the punishment for refusal had been.  Granted, once he’d gotten a taste for it, it had stopped being a worry.  He’d been a willing party to his own debasement, so it was nice to see that at least one of them fought back.

“You look like shit.”  He stated simply, sheathing his sword with calculated nonchalance. 

“Yeah, well I have you to thank for it.”  She snapped nastily before crossing the distance between them both and slapping him sharply across his scarred cheek.  Without thinking, he responded in kind, hitting her hard enough to knock her to the floor before glaring down at her.

“What the hell was that for!?”  Crimson and azure eyes met in matching glares as the two faced off, both visibly bristling with hostility.

“You tried to kill yourself!” She snapped again, rising to her feet, her slender fingers curled tightly into fists.  Dilandau eyed them warily as he rubbed his cheek.  That had stung!

“Well obviously I didn’t so keep your hands to yourself or I’ll break your damn jaw.  Hmph, I think I liked you better as a snot filled brat.”

“You’re alive because I stopped you, you coward!”  Leaning forward, she stuck her face in his and he could feel the heat from every single one of her breaths brush across his skin.  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to control your body right now?  It took everything I had to stop you.”

“Then don’t try to fight me for control!  The body is mine!  You’re the one who ran away because you couldn’t take a little pain!  Deal with it princess!”  Angrily, he placed his hands on her shoulders and shoved her back, tired of having her in his personal space.  Though, dimly he was aware of the irony of the action seeing as they were physically in the same damn body.

“You don’t get to decide if we live or die!”  Celena shot back, allowing herself to be moved but not backing down in the least.  “You promised to protect me!” Every ounce of her being radiated defiance as she stood her ground against her twisted reflection.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice!  You’re bloody useless!  How can you be a part of me and not know how to fight?!  Schezar’s an idiot for not teaching you to at least use a damn dagger, honestly, was he wanting you to be attacked?”   It was a low blow, even for him, but he found himself unable to stop himself now that his ire was up.

Celena rolled her eyes, hardly hurt by the insults.  She’d been through enough of his memories to know when he was simply snapping back defensively as opposed to truly attempting to wound.  Instead of growing angry, she instead changed tactics and dropped her aggressive posture, softening her voice slightly.

“Allen never came… he never comes for me, no matter how loudly I call for him.”  The truth rippled through the air.  Both winced at the words and the deep pain they awoke in each of them.  Gently, Celena reached out a hand and gently stroked the cheek she’d so recently struck.  “You’re the only one who ever did… you protected me.  You took my place so I didn’t have to hurt anymore.  Whether you wanted to or not, you still did it, and you’re still fighting for me no matter what you say.  It… it means a lot to me and I know it hurts.”  Her hand dropped down to his shoulder as she stepped forward, leaning her head against his chest.

For a long moment, he stood stiff and still, resenting the unwanted physical contact.  Once it became clear that she wasn’t about to back away, he gave a heavy sigh then reached out his hand and gently traced his fingertips through her hair, smoothing out the bloody tangles.

“It hurts so much… and I’m scared all of the time… but I don’t want to die.”  She murmured quietly.  “I… I’ve never really lived.  Not like you have.”

“I’m not giving you the body.”  The fingers tightened almost painfully against her scalp but Celena didn’t pull away, she knew that he wouldn’t hurt her no matter how much he might want to.

“I don’t want you to.  I don’t want it… bodies hurt… there’s so much to fear, so much to hate… If I had the body I wouldn’t have a life, I know this.”  It hurt to say and felt like she was betraying a deep part of herself, but it didn’t make her words any less real.  “I wasn’t living… I’ve never really lived, even before they took me away.

“You… for all the pain and horror in your life, you’ve lived so beautifully.  I hate so much of what you’ve done… it’s horrible and vile and it makes me want to scream whenever I find those bad memories… and it’s worse that you love so many of them… but it’s better than anything I have.. or would have.”  The fingers gently resumed their stroking as Dilandau listened to her, the repetitive action slowly calming him.

“Brother would lock me away to keep me safe.  He’d mean well, just like momma did but I’d be nothing more than a caged bird… a pet.  He’d make me into a proper astorian woman he could be proud of.  I’d sing and dance… I’d sew and wear pretty dresses… maybe I’d be allowed out to pick flowers or ride some old lazy mare, but I’d never fight in a battle and I’d never swing a sword or travel through mysterious lands.  I’ll never feel the wind in my hair from the top of a Floating Fortress or feel gravity pull at me as I tore the sky apart in a guymelef on my own.  I could live my entire life and never fight a dragon in some distant country and then get drunk with my friends afterwards.  That’s your life; all I can do is watch snippets of your memories and live them as my own.

“My life is an empty thing, but you’ve filled it with so much that I don’t really regret my fate.  It’s so much more than I would have ever had without you.”

“… I stole your life.”  Dilandau murmured softly, shock clear in his voice as he pulled back slightly to look at her, clearly not expecting any of the words he’d just heard.  “I’m a parasite… a twisted and cursed thing made up of stolen fragments of other people…I’m just a monster… not even human.”  Bitterness filled his voice as he finally recalled what had sent him into his suicidal spiral.  “I’m a demon.  I don’t deserve your envy.”  His stomach churned at the word, at the horrible truth behind everything he ever thought he was.  A perfect being, the idol of a country… a disgusting lie.

“Don’t be stupid.”  The edge was back in her voice as she straightened up and looked him in the eye.  The stern expression on her face was identical to the one he wore when dressing down an obstinate Dragonslayer.

“You’re Dilandau Albatou, the same Dilandau you were before you learned about Folken and Draconians.  Nothing’s changed.  What does it matter how you were made or what went into your body?  You’re not some mystical list of ingredients that some stupid sorcerer in an ugly cloak threw together.  You’re you. You’ve always been you.”

“But… Draconians are cursed… they’re vile and disgusting monsters.”

“They’re hardly cursed.  King Fanel is doing just fine isn’t he?”

“His country is ash.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine… and Folken’s… which still proves my point.”

“He won the war, Lord Folken redeemed himself and Fanelia is being rebuilt.  They’re doing far better than Zaibach which I will point out was NOT led by a Draconian and WAS the sole reason for most of the devastation of the war.”

“Credit where it’s due… I did most of the damage.”

“Oh, so now you’re happy about spreading strife and suffering?”

“I just want to make sure that my efforts have been properly noted.”  She met his egotism with an indulgent smile and nodded her head, pleased to have pulled him out of the worst of his depression.  Still, the temptation to needle him was just too strong and Celena couldn’t quite hold back a teasing grin.

“As for being disgusting monsters… I think King Fanel is actually rather cute.”

“That’s it.  I refuse to share a body with you anymore.”

“What?  What’s wrong with him?  And I’m meaning physically, not what he’s done to warrant your hatred.  I don’t want to be here all night listening to you list things off.”

“He’s short, scrawny has stupid hair, dresses badly and I’m rather sure he doesn’t bathe nearly enough to be considered at all healthy.”

Celena smiled at how quickly Dilandau listed off the kings faults, amused at how he’d clearly given it quite a bit of previous thought.

“Seriously, that shirt bothers me.  How hasn’t it fallen to pieces yet?”

“He likely has several identical shirts.”

“Why? It’s ugly!”

“I thought you loved the colour red.”

“I do!  The shirt insults it.” 

“King Fanel is right, you’re such an Astorian.”  She scoffed playfully, laughing at his look of utter disgust at her words.

“You were listening to that conversation?” 

“I listen when I can… I don’t always see and hear… sometimes I don’t want to know what you’re doing.”  She gave Dilandau a pointed glare so he knew exactly what she was referring to.  “Honestly, Gaddes?  He’s like an older brother to me… or an uncle!  He’s… he’s old!”

“But he’s great in bed.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that right?”

“You’re the one spying on me.  You deserve what you see.”

Dilandau smiled as they argued, enjoying the playful barbs being tossed back and forth.  It reminded him of the Dragonslayers when they were celebrating after a successful hunt, or relaxing in their lounge.  Oddly enough, he rather liked that she wasn’t afraid of him despite knowing what he was capable of, but more importantly, she didn’t pity him.  Here was someone who knew the lowest points of his life, but accepted him for exactly who he was.  Granted, she didn’t really have a choice in the matter, they were stuck with each other and had to do their best to make do, but this was nice. 

Still, he found something relaxing deep inside as the tension of his latest discoveries slipped away.  Maybe she was right… what did it matter if he was actually some demon parents used to scare their children into good behavior.  He already featured in so many nightmares that centuries from now, when the war was forgotten to all but the most esoteric of scholars, there would still likely be stories of the pale demon whose fire threatened to burn all of Gaea to ash.  Now at least the stories would have a bit more truth to them.

Granted, what was done to him was disgusting and horrible, but in comparison to everything else the Madoushi had put him through, was it really so much worse?  He could have been mixed with a doppelganger and called that wretch Zongi brother…Ugh, the smell alone would have merited suicide.

“I still don’t like this.”  He found himself admitting to her, unwilling to lie.  She’d find out anyway, the damn woman had unrestricted access to his mind after all.  There was little point in keeping secrets.

“I know you don’t… no one expects you to.  You’re learning horrible things about yourself, and they’re likely only going to get worse the more you know… but I agree with you, you need to know these things.  The sorcerers and Zaibach have lied to and manipulated you for too long.  You need to know who and what you are so you can move onwards.”

“I was more thinking that I need to know these things so I can tear apart these seven would be usurpers.”  Dilandau argued, smiling slightly in challenge.  “I’m the last Fate Alteration Soldier and I don’t like challengers.”  It came off as a joke, but there was something deeply compelling about killing off any rivals.  Likely it was some left over programming from the project itself, ensuring that only the strongest and most skilled survived.  Whether he wanted to kill these cheap Basram copies or not, he’d be driven to do it.  The Madoushi in their arrogance had ensured that he’d have no choice in the matter but to oppose them. 

“Whatever your reasons, just remember that you’re not alone.  I’m here in this with you.  Our lives are one, so don’t try to end it without talking to me first.”  Steel glinted in the depths of her eyes as she spoke.  “We don’t give up.  Not now, not ever.”

“It’s a sad day when I’m hearing this from you.”

“It is isn’t it, so that should tell you something.  Now wake up.  You likely upset a lot of people with that stunt of yours.  You need to fix things.  And stop being so mean to Van, you’re on the same side!”

“I don’t care how cute you think he is, I’m not being nice to the runt.”  Dilandau flashed her a playful grin as he felt his awareness being tugged away.  It was unpleasant and disorienting to be in the small confines of the cell one moment, then laying down on something soft in a bright room the next… with a throbbing headache.

 

Swearing softly, he tried to raise his hands to his head but found that he couldn’t move them at all.  His arms were tied!  Panic surged through him as memories of being bound by his Masters rose to the forefront of his mind.  Any moment now he’d feel the bite of their knives or the burn of chemicals flowing through him.

Something moved nearby and instinctively, he kicked viciously at it, hoping to drive away one of his attackers.  There was the jar of impact, a muffled “oomph” as someone was knocked away and the pain in his head seemed to explode into new levels of agony, leaving him gasping and panting as he struggled to hold onto his consciousness.  The world spun dangerously and his limbs twitched from vicious muscle spasms as something inside him retaliated against the attack.

“Well… we know he’s awake.”  The voice sounded far away, heard down the length of a corridor.  It hurt to focus on it, his body wanting to spiral away back into the blackness of unconsciousness but he grit his teeth and struggled to force his brain to obey him.

“Mother fucker… You’d think I’d remember that he kicks…”  This voice had the exact opposite of the first, it pulled him in, soothed the pain which tore through his limbs, promising comfort.  Like a newborn babe to its mother’s teat, he found himself twisting towards it, reaching for it with every ounce of his essence and moaned softly when a heavy warmth settled on his brow.  “You ok kid?”

It was hard to focus his eyesight at first, his head simply hurt too much, but he’d been asked a question and that demanded an answer.  There was no way he could deny that voice anything.

“Head… head hurts.”  He murmured, his voice sounding rough.  The simple act of forming words caused his headache to flare up, but something stroked gently through his hair, soothing it instantly.  Sighing softly, he nuzzled that delicious warmth, revelling in it, wanting to be surrounded by the touch, knowing that it would drive away the pain and darkness.  The tip of his tongue darted out, tasting flesh and tingling at the contact before the glorious touch was snatched away.

“Hey, none of that now.”  The voice chided as he moaned softly at the loss.  “Open your eyes Dilandau, We need to make sure I didn’t do any damage to your brain. It’s already messed up enough as it is.”  Again he moaned softly, not wanting to open his eyes.  All he wanted was to have that touch back, to be enveloped in it forever.  Still, it was another order and his eyes opened despite themselves as he winced at the bright light of the room.

Unable to help himself, he pulled back in pain, only to have those lovely fingers stroke through his hair once more, relaxing him instantly.  A body shifted nearby and he leaned towards it, letting it hold him up as he drank in every point of contact, letting it strengthen him with its touch.  A second form moved into his sharpening field of vision, an unwanted intrusion.  He tried to pull away but the warm hands holding him kept him still.  Instead, he glared at the dark blurry shape, watching it coalesce into a familiar figure.

“Van.”  He growled softly, glaring at the runt king, loathing his proximity.

“Hold still, I’m checking your pupils.”  The darker youth grumbled, staring into his eyes intently.  “You took a pretty good blow to the head.”  He didn’t remember getting hit at all but his eyes narrowed in suspicion, sure that the bane of his existence had had something to do with it.

“Why am I tied up?”  Was he a prisoner?  Had he done something wrong?  The last thing he really remembered was fighting Celena for control over his body, desperate to cut away the impurities inside himself.

Warm brown eyes glanced upwards, likely seeking some unspoken acknowledgement from Gaddes.  The person he was leaning against shifted slightly, no guess as to who that was.  There was only one person on Gaea who would dare hold him in his arms like this.  Still, it irritated the young captain to have his question ignored so openly.

Without thinking, he kicked again.  The attack was controlled, striking to hurt rather than injure and his heel caught the monarch in the thigh, right where a bundle of nerves happened to be.  Watching Van jump back with a pained yelp, rubbing his leg was more than a little satisfying and helped to mollify the Dragonslayer regarding his current situation.

“I asked you a question runt.”  He snapped.  “Why am I tied up?”

“Well, he’s back to normal… too bad.”  Despite his words, Van was smiling ruefully.  Carefully, the fanelian king sat back down on the edge of the bed, this time making sure he was out of kicking distance.

“We had to make sure you were calm.”  Gaddes spoke, his voice close to Dilandau’s ear.  Enjoying the soft brush of air across his flesh, the Dragonslayer leaned in a little closer, letting the man’s body heat engulf him.

“Great, I’m calm now untie me.”

“First, tell us what you remember.”  Dilandau didn’t even bother hiding the fact that he rolled his eyes, sighing loudly in annoyance over the order.

“I found out about Folken and the fact that those Madoushi bastards made me from him.  I was understandably upset.”

“Understandably upset?”  Van parroted, rising to his feet and glaring at Dilandau in anger.  “You tried to kill me!”

“Van, remember what we said about staying calm until we sorted all of this out?”  Gaddes’ tone of voice left little room for argument and Dilandau found himself smiling slightly at the monarch being dressed down like an erring child.

“Well… he did.”

“I’m fine now.”  Calm confidence filled Dilandau’s voice as he spoke, his fingers beginning to work at the knots holding him bound.  “I’ve come to terms with what they did.  It’s not like I can do anything to change it after all.  So I have two fathers, a colour ago I didn’t have any.  I’ll adapt.”  The words sounded far bolder than he felt, but behind him, Gaddes seemed to relax slightly.

“You started to turn back into Celena.”  Van continued to push, wanting to trigger the albino’s wrath, needed to prove that the other youth simply couldn’t be trusted.  Crimson eyes narrowed slightly but rather than subject them all to a blistering string of curses and threats for daring to mention his alter ego, he simply shrugged.

“Started to.  Didn’t.”  A smug smirk twisted Dilandau’s lips as he held the king’s gaze.  “We had a long talk about things and despite reaching an impasse over her terrible sense of taste; we agreed that I’ll speak to her before committing myself to any irrevocable acts of self-destruction.”  The knots loosened steadily, giving his wrists more room to work, though he held onto his patience, fully aware that if he got excited the others would realize what he was up to.

“What about your lack of common sense?”  It seemed that Van wasn’t about to give up his interrogation and Dilandau raised a silvery eyebrow in mild confusion, wishing the runt would just lean forward a little more so he could kick him in his ugly jaw.  Let’s see how attractive Celena found him after he’d had his face kicked to a bloody pulp.

“Oh I assure you that that hasn’t changed.  What’s got your feathers ruffled this time?”  He couldn’t quite keep a grin off of his face at the little jab at the wings.  One good thing about this mess was that at least it gave him something new to pick on the king about… even if it could be turned back on him as well.

As hoped for, Van’s eyes narrowed angrily but rather than leaning forward, he rocked back, crossing his arms over his scrawny chest, fixing the albino with an imperious glare.

“When we were disarming you, I found some bergathort leaves tucked into your sleeve.  Care to explain why you’re wandering around with a potent poison?”

“Bergawhat?  Ooooh, you mean the Greytongue leaves.  I’ll never understand the names you give plants in this country.  I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you that I thought they smelled nice?”  He grinned widely, fully aware that no one in the room believed him for even a moment… not that he really cared.  Another knot was deftly undone.  “They were for me alright?  In case King Aston decided to act as he usually does and betray me in light of his own self-interest.”  Sighing in the face of the overwhelming skepticism, he mentally wondered why he even bothered with the truth when no one ever really believed him. 

“Look, we all know what the people of this country would love to do to me.  Hells, name any country on Gaea and the sentiments are likely the same.  I’ll be tide up and tossed to the masses to be torn apart like some kids solstice festival decoration.  While I might not fear death, that’s no way to go, so call it a final act of defiance.”  Still no one seemed to be overly convinced and he could feel his patience wearing thin.

“Have you ever tasted that crap?  There’s no way anyone would unwittingly eat it.  It tastes as bad as it looks.  I couldn’t slip it into a drunkard’s salad even if I wanted to.  Believe what you want though, I’m done arguing about it.”

Another knot was slipped when behind him, Gaddes suddenly shifted and strong hands grabbed onto his wrists, holding them tightly together.

“Nice try kid.”  The sergeant said in an amused voice barely heard over Dilandau’s cursing.  “That almost worked, but you gave yourself away.  There’s no way you’d ever be this reasonable.”

“Huh? What just happened… You bastard!”  Well, it seemed that the king had finally noticed the loosened rope.  “How did you learn to undo those?!  Those were some of my best knots!”  Wow, this was almost more fun than kicking Van in the face.

“You sure you really want to know the answer to that?”  Dilandau arched an eyebrow suggestively and was rewarded with the king turning bright red and quickly stammering out something utterly unintelligible as he looked away.  Thoroughly amused and rather proud of himself, he glanced over at Gaddes, eager for his reaction but his self-indulgent grin turned to a puzzled frown as he saw how Gaddes just looked upset, not meeting his gaze at all.  Alright, that was new.

“It was part of my survival training.”  He muttered, annoyed at having to make the clarification.  “The supreme soldier can’t exactly allow himself to be held by an enemy now can he?”  At least Gaddes seemed to relax slightly with the explanation, leaving Dilandau to wonder just what the man’s problem was.

“You can let me go.  I’m not going to try to kill myself again and I’m not going to kill Van… at least not right now.”  He couldn’t help but add.  “Besides, I’ll just undo any ropes you tie me up with… unless you give me a good incentive to stay put.”  The suggestive wriggle likely wasn’t necessary, but he simply couldn’t resist another chance to put Van off balance.

“Look, it’s late and it’s been a long day.”  Gaddes cut in, releasing Dilandau’s wrists as if he’d been burned before sliding off the bed.  “We should all get some rest, training starts early in the morning after all and we can’t exactly show up all exhausted or the knights will laugh at us.”  He and Van looked at each other, something weighty and unpleasant passing between them.

Nodding his head, the King straightened up and motioned towards Palos who had been skulking around at the far end of the room, well out of the captain’s line of sight.

“We’ll go then… just knock on my door if you need anything.”  Van murmured to Gaddes, adding to Dilandau’s growing sense of unease.  What the hell had he missed while he was out cold?  His mind was already filling up with questions and none of them were good.

Silently he watched as the two men left, closing the door quietly behind them.  Rather than taking the strange tension with them, it seemed to build in their absence, making the hair on the back of Dilandau’s neck stand on end.

Now that he didn’t have to hide his actions, he swiftly undid the last of the knots and slipped his hands free.  Turning around, he faced Gaddes, more than a little disturbed by the look of sorrow and apprehension on the older man’s face.  You’d think someone had died… and for a moment, Dilandau worried that he might have actually killed someone earlier downstairs, but no, if he had, there was no way that Van wouldn’t have been bitching and moaning about it.  That meant that Gaddes had managed to work himself up over something else.

Positive that he knew the best way to alleviate his lover’s discomfiture, Dilandau leaned forward, pressing his lips to Gaddes’ and smiling slightly.

“I thought they’d never leave.”  He murmured, shifting so that more of his body was pressed against the others.  “It’s been an altogether unpleasant evening for both of us, so how about we end it on a high note?”  The lips beneath his own were stiff and unresponsive and the body trembled slightly before large strong hands took hold of his shoulders and gently pushed him back.  For a moment, there was a sickening flash of being back in Schezar’s room on the ship, the very air around them filled with his rejection and disgust.  No… that was impossible.  He knew how Gaddes felt about him, knew that he wanted him… how could he resist? 

“Fanelian?”  Leaning forward, he tried to kiss his lover again but this time Gaddes clearly pulled away, leaving Dilandau straining against his hands.

“I… we can’t.”  Gaddes choked out, his voice tight with strain.  The hands on his shoulders trembled, but remained firm in their grip.  The twisting in his stomach grew worse. 

“What do you mean we can’t?”  There was a distinct edge to Dilandau’s voice and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he tried to cover up the growing dread inside him.  No… no this couldn’t be happening… not again.

“This isn’t healthy Dilandau… What they did to you…”   Grey eyes held his, burning intensely with disgust and the fingers on his shoulders dug in for a moment, bruising the skin beneath.

“What they did?”  He wanted to vomit, to scream and bite and kill.  He wanted to do anything but talk about this but his mouth began moving before he could indulge in any of the other options.  “What they did doesn’t matter.”  It was hard keeping his voice calm, to keep his hands from striking out at the one hurting him so unexpectedly.  Instead, he reached up to stroke Gaddes’ cheeks only to have the man flinch away from his touch.  It felt like a knife being driven through his ribs and for a long moment, his hand  simply hung there in the air between them, unsure of what to do next. 

“It was in the past… It doesn’t matter now.  What matters is us.”

“There is no us Dilandau.  Can’t you see that?”  This time Gaddes pulled away completely, sliding off the bed, leaving Dilandau sitting there alone, too stunned by his words to react.  Running a hand through dark hair, the sergeant took several deep breaths, struggling to compose himself.  He’d never thought he’d ever see such an openly wounded look on the kid’s face.  Jeture, it might have been kinder to let him end his life downstairs rather than subject him to more emotional pain, but he knew he had to do this.  He had to break the cycle for Dilandau’s sake if nothing else.

“They programmed you to want this, to need it and I was an idiot and didn’t see this.  I took advantage of you Dilandau.  I didn’t know I was… but Jeture, I certainly wasn’t thinking about what was good for you at the time.  This isn’t healthy and it’s not right.”

“But… I want you.”  He found himself murmuring, his voice soft and needy, making him sound like a desperate child.  Gaddes flinched at his words and shook his head.

“No you don’t.  They programmed you to imprint on a person, to make them this Anchor thing.  Allen kept his distance from you so instead of him, you imprinted on me and like the idiot I am, I took advantage of it.  I used you Dilandau, I took advantage of the situation you were in, the state of mind you were in and I was no better than those bastards who hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me dammit!”  Dilandau snapped, slipping off the bed and approaching Gaddes who took another step back.  It was exactly as it had been with Schezar, the man refusing to touch him, barely even looking at him… as if he was something disgusting.

The world seemed to spin around him, his equilibrium failing and the room grew chill in spite of the fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his skin.  Despite himself, he reached forward again and was once more rejected.

“Don’t do this Gaddes… please don’t do this to me…”  He murmured softly, the hand still poised in the air began to tremble.  “I need you.”

“No you don’t!”  The sergeant shot back, anger struggling to cover the pain beneath his words.  “They only made you think that.  Jeture Dilandau, you’re a sixteen year old boy.  You’re a kid!  What I’m doing with you is wrong!  Those sick bastards made you think that you need someone so that they could control you.  That’s why I’m the only one you ever listen to, why I’m the only one who can calm you down without resorting to violence.  I’m not an idiot, I see the pattern here.  This isn’t free will, it’s rape and I won’t be a part of it!”

The hand pulled back and wrapped around his body protectively, trying to shield him from the harsh words.  No… no this wasn’t happening… he was being rejected, cast aside, flawed, disgusting… a failure… cursed…  His love was poison, it tainted everything, ruined anything good in his life, leaving him with nothing but pain.  Celena was wrong… what he was did change everything.  He’d blamed Van for what had gone wrong in his life but it wasn’t the runt… it was him… his own blood and body was the traitor and there was no way to escape it.  The poison was inside him, it always had been.

“It’s not…”  His lips didn’t feel like they were attached to his face, his entire body felt numb.  “It wasn’t… I wanted you before we had sex.”  That was true wasn’t it?  Sure, he hadn’t thought of the man in any sexual way before that kiss during the party, but afterwards…afterwards the feel of those lips had taunted him mercilessly. 

“It’s more than sex!”  Dilandau shot back, desperate now and using his ever present anger to fuel his words. 

“You’re right, it is!  It’s a mental control, it’s brainwashing.  It’s disgusting and cruel and you don’t deserve it!”  Gaddes turned away from him, unable to stand seeing the look of devastation and betrayal in those beautiful crimson eyes.  He wanted more than anything to scoop the albino up in his arms, smother him with kisses and promise him that they’d work their way through this, that everything would be alright in the end… but if he did that, it wouldn’t be.  He’d just continue the sick cycle, and Dilandau would let him.  He had to set the kid free, give him a chance to make his own choices, to have his own mind.  If he didn’t, he’d never be able to live with himself. 

“You promised me that you’d be by my side forever… that you wouldn’t leave me alone.”  Dilandau’s voice was soft, only the faintest tremor was audible despite his shaking.

“I WILL be there for you.”  Gaddes turned back, smiling gently.  “Just as your friend, not your lover.  I’m not throwing you away Dilandau, I just want you to be free from the Madoushi’s games.”  The rejection was a slap in the face, a sword in the gut… it was like watching his men die all over again, only this one was leaving him willingly.  He was being cast away, not worthy of protecting, of being with, just a failed and useless thing.

The pain in his guts grew as they churned and twisted around each other and his desperation rose.  Before he realized what was happening, he was on his knees, clutching at Gaddes’ feet in an utterly pathetic display of subservience that would have appalled him had he been at all in his right mind.

“Don’t… please… love me.  Please want me… don’t throw me away… Please!  I need you!” 

“This is what I mean Dilandau!  This isn’t you!  You don’t beg, you never beg!” The feet stepped away leaving him grasping at the floor and struggling for breath as his heart shattered inside him.  Gone… everyone was gone… he was alone.

“I’m not leaving you.  I’ll help you any way I can, but not like that.  I respect you too much to do that to you.”  Dilandau didn’t hear the words.  They meant nothing more than another rejection, another knife tearing him apart. 

“If you respected me, you’d listen to me.”  He murmured softly, rising to his feet and backing away.  Every step hurt more than the one before and every instinct screamed at him to bow down to what Gaddes was saying, to be content with the scraps of his affection.  He was a failure and needed to be punished, so now it was all being taken away.  The sweet touches, the warmth, the glorious pleasure… It didn’t matter what the man said, it was his actions, or lack of which were the source of his torment. 

Opening his mouth again, he tried to force words out, tried to explain the depths of his need, how Gaddes was an integral part of him now and how agonizing it was to be turned away.  He wanted to explain the terror of rejection, how being denied the touch of his Anchor, denied their affection was the worst torture anyone could do to him.  It didn’t matter if it was sick or hurtful, it was his life, it was a part of him and always had been.  At least he didn’t mind with Gaddes.  He wanted him, yearned for him and felt more at peace with the man than he could ever remember before.

The pain was simply too much and instead of finding the words, Dilandau spun away, racing out onto the balcony.  He heard Gaddes’ shout, knew the man was running to stop him, but he wouldn’t be fast enough.

Reaching the railing, he sprung out over the edge, thrilling at the momentary feeling of weightlessness as the air rushed around him, pulling at his hair.  Oh it was tempting to stay like that, to let the hard ground below take him away from it all, but his body was already twisting, slender hands reaching out to snag the balcony below, altering his angle and slowing his decent.  Tendons groaned in protest at the strain but he ignored them.

Landing on the balcony below, he wasted no time in leaping again, hopping his way down to the ground of the courtyard where he took advantage of the shadows of the near moonless night and vanished into the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... it's one kick in the teeth after another. On the up side, Dilandau is pretty much done with being all emo and mopey. He's ready to start hitting back and may the gods help whoever gets in his way. On the down side, that means he's pretty much back in the same head space he was in the series and is acting without thinking which never ends well for anyone not possessing good fire insurance.
> 
> Next Chapter: Fate, fortune and far too much whiskey!


	28. Whiskey Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van decides to grab a few peaceful moments and just drink... only it doesn't quite go how he'd intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Over 300 hits! So happy! Thank you everyone who's reading this story! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! We're almost done Book 1, Book 2 will be much more action packed and full of suspense, horror and wonder. We'll have a few new characters show up, some old faces rejoining and the usual shenanigans!
> 
> As usual, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any characters. Not making money, i'm just in it for the evil.

                Van wasn’t a heavy drinker; in fact, he wasn’t much of a drinker at all.  The odd glass of wine was considered about as wild as he ever got.  Mostly he was happy drinking gourd juice or fresh spring water.  Since the war, gourds were hard to find, especially in Fanelia and most spring water was contaminated from the war.  Countless corpses and broken down guymelef’s were not conducive to a healthy eco system it seemed.  He’d heard more than enough horror stories of villages that’d fallen prey to post war sickness and saw no reason to join their ranks.  It simply hadn’t been worth the risk, so instead, he’d been making due with small beer and watered wine like everyone else, but tonight he felt he’d earned something much more potent than his usual fare.

                Between the usual stresses of dealing with the one person on Gaea he hated above all others, court politics, training harder than he ever did under Balgus and then watching a madman attempt a murder suicide in which he’d been a feature participant, he’d had a rather long day.

                Looking out the window, he could see the edge of the Mystic Moon and frowned slightly, feeling a rather deep sense of betrayal as he stared at that giant cerulean orb rising above the tops of the palace walls.

                “Why didn’t you tell me Hitomi?”  He grumbled softly, his fingers tightening around his glass before raising it to his lips.  “You want us to work together but you didn’t tell us any of this… How could you not see it?  How could you not see it when we first met him?”  Gods of Gaea, she’d stared right into that bastard’s eyes!  How could she have not noticed what was happening to him or what had been done?  How could she not see the links between them! 

No, that was unfair.  He knew that Hitomi’s powers had only been in their infancy and she’d had no control over what she saw at any given time.  If she hadn’t seen the connection between Dilandau and Allen, she certainly wouldn’t have noticed it between him and Van.  Still… it would have been damn convenient to know any of that at the beginning of this mess… or even the other day when they’d spoken.

The liquor burned its way down his throat and tasted terrible regardless of Palos’ claim that it was a rather exquisite whisky.  Despite that, he took another sip, rolling it over his tongue as he indulged in his introspection.

Be honest Van, he chided himself.  You’re angry at yourself more than anything. You’d thought you were alone, the last Draconian on Gaea, and now you find out there’s another, that you have a brother… nephew… whatever the hell Dilandau was.  Except he turns out to be every terrible legend of their people ever brought to life. 

“Your sons have made a mess of things Mother.”  He murmured into his glass, wondering for not the first time why she hadn’t returned with them from Atlantis, why she’d chosen to abandon him yet again.  What was it with women leaving him?  His mother, Hitomi… at least he still had Merle, except she was on the other side of Astoria with Allen and likely worried sick about him.  

Once again, his eyes drifted back to the rising moon and h found his thoughts focussing on Hitomi, wondering if she’d learned anything new they could use… or if she’d shied away from what her Visions might show her.  No, he had to be fair, She’d done more than her fair share during the last war, and it hadn’t even been her fight.  She’d risked her life time and time again to protect him and had shown more bravery than most men.  Just because she didn’t wield a sword in battle didn’t make her contributions any less heroic.

_“Van?”_ He nearly dropped his glass in shock as he looked up, seeing Hitomi’s shimmering form standing there framed by the window.  “ _Van, I could feel your pain… what happened?”_ Concern filled her emerald green eyes as she reached out a hand to touch him, pausing just before their skin made contact, not wanting to shatter the illusion of physicality.

“Oh where to start…”  He muttered, doing his best not to sound bitter… and failing rather miserably.  Taking a deep bracing sip of his drink, and nearly spitting out the vile concoction a moment later, he closed his eyes encouraging himself to be civil.  This was Hitomi, the bright shining light of his life… the savior of Gaea.  He owed her civility if nothing else.

 “Dilandau is a draconian.”  He stared down at his hands as he spoke, wanting to touch her so badly that it hurt.  “The sorcerers did something when they altered Celena… they used Folken, took something out of him and designed Dilandau around it.”  It was a rather abbreviated version of events, but he really didn’t understand the process well enough to explain it to anyone.  Even now, it sounded farfetched to him.

Her gasp of shock did more than any words ever could towards convincing him that she knew nothing about this.  The hand pulled away quickly and his eyes followed its path to her mouth where it joined its mate in covering those delicate lips.  Tears welled up in the edges of her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks and once again, Van marvelled at her ability to feel sympathy for even the vilest creatures on Gaea.

_“I didn’t know…”_   She whispered softly.  _“I really didn’t know Van… please forgive me.”_

Shaking his head, he put his drink down and stood up, wishing that he didn’t have to look up a little to meet her eyes.

“None of us did… I don’t even know if Folken knew.  That bastard kept too many secrets from us even in the end.”  Alright, it seemed that he was still angry with his brother, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

_“What are you planning to do?”_   There was honest worry in her voice and those beautiful eyes searched his.  He could only imagine what she expected him to do.  Repudiate Dilandau, tell her that he’d killed the pale bastard, rant and rave about how unfair fate was… blame Folken.  Sadly, less than a colour ago he’d have happily done exactly that, but over the past few days he’d learned too much and his black and white world was pretty much irrevocably shattered.

Closing his eyes, he saw the faces of those children in the sorcerer’s files, staring up from the shadowgraphs in terror.  Images of their ruined bodies laid out in display as if they were nothing but things rather than living people.

“Gaddes is talking to him right now… he seems to be taking it well enough, but this is Dilandau… I’m sure he’ll destroy something the first chance he gets.”  As if Van would be any different if he was in the Dragonslayer’s shoes.  “I think he’s talking to Celena… in his head I mean… but I don’t know.  I thought I understood him.  I really did… but I didn’t know anything about him.” 

_“You never got a chance to.  He likely feels the same way.  It’s sad to think that your lives were so intertwined for so long, focussed on each other so intently, but neither of you knew anything more than hatred.”_

“Hitomi…”  Van swallowed then licked his lips nervously, wanting to know… needing to know but afraid to ask.  Determined to not back down, he pushed forward.  If his nemesis could boldly seek out answered he knew would only cause pain, could he do any less in return?  “Hitomi… was that why you didn’t want us to fight?  I mean… you never…You were always so distraught whenever we fought, more than when I was battling other Zaibach soldiers.  It was always when I was fighting Dilandau that you’d get truly upset… that terrible things would start happening.”

_“I…”_   Now it was her turn to stumble over words and Van watched as she closed her eyes, composing herself before speaking again.  _“The connection I felt between you both wasn’t at all like the one between you and Folken.  Whenever you two fought, I could feel something dark rising up around you both.  It was vicious and twisted, feeding off your combined rage.  I could feel you becoming like him, as if his love of battle was infecting you and I knew that if you struck him down you’d never escape it.”_   Her arms wrapped around herself as she shivered, likely seeing that dark warped version of Van, a true demon from legend.

_“Nothing was worth you becoming that Van.  So long as you didn’t fall to that power, there was hope for Gaea, for everyone.”_

“And what do you feel between us now?”

_“There’s power… wild, uncontrolled… it grows and swirls around you both in a maelstrom.  Between the two of you, you could destroy Gaea… or save it.  I know that’s not overly helpful.”_   She sighed softly and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.  It was a familiar gesture, one which made the young king ache inside.  _“What you two make of it will decide your destiny, and you’ll pull others along with you whether you want to or not.  You’re both born leaders despite your differences.”_

“He doesn’t want to save Gaea, he hates pretty much everyone on it.  All he wants is revenge and we’ve seen how well that goes for everyone around him.”

_“Has anyone ever given him any reason to care?  Have you tried to show him why Gaea would be worth saving?”_   Ouch, that hurt.  As usual, Hitomi saw through everything and pointed out the heart of a problem with uncanny skill.  Somewhat ashamed, Van looked away, feeling more than a little guilty of failing to even think of doing either of those things.  In fact, he’d actively crushed any moments of pride and joy in the other teenager… but in his defense, Dilandau had been doing exactly the same thing!  Which… just went back to what Hitomi was warning him about.

Suddenly he didn’t want to talk about what he should have done, or how he was actually in the wrong.  It seemed that he was constantly getting his face rubbed in that fact over and over again.  Still, it did disturb him to think that Dilandau’s vicious madness was infectious, that he could twist Van into being something like him.  Dammit, as if the pale monster wasn’t dangerous enough as it was.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen anything about that Basram General, or more importantly, this Shroden guy?”  Van shuddered in disgust at the name, unable to keep from imagining all the horrible things the man had done, not just to Dilandau, but to all those other doomed children.  “Gods of Gaea Hitomi… what we’ve learned about that man so far…he doesn’t deserve to be called a human being.  I couldn’t ever imagine anyone being so evil and twisted…”  His voice trailed off at the thought of being raised by someone like that… knowing that he was coming after them both, that he could very easily end up another shattered dissected body on a lab table.

Now it was Hitomi’s turn to look disgusted and her already pale skin grew even more pallid as she swallowed down rising nausea.

_“Blood, so much blood.  I hear the screaming of children over and over.  I hear voices risen up in agony, choking on their own deaths.  I hear your voices… Van it’s terrible!”_   Her voice choked off for a moment as she struggled for control.  “ _It’s growing closer.  Every day I can hear those guymelef approaching, their feet crunching their way across a field of skulls and whenever I look at my cards I see them dripping with blood.  A dark cloud is swallowing up Gaea bit by bit and it’s growing closer to you.”_

Her hands reached out again, trying to grab onto Van, to ground herself with his presence, but her fingers slid through his arms and she jerked back sharply with a soft gasp.

_“It’s already in Astoria, a dark corruption that’s waiting for you, watching for weakness so it can pounce.  Van, you need to get out of there!  Find somewhere else!  Go to Fanelia to Asgard!  For God’s sake, come here but don’t stay there!”_ His first thought was to race out of the room and alert the others then bolt out into the night but experience stayed his hand.  One thing the war had taught him were the dangers of acting impulsively and he held his ground, taking several deep calming breaths as he struggled against Hitomi’s hysteria.  Panic wouldn’t accomplish anything other than give their enemies room to act.

“Can you see who it is?  Where is the enemy Hitomi?”

_“My powers don’t work like that Van, I can’t just point out your enemy…_ “  Hitomi paused for a moment, her cheeks colouring as she realized that she’d pretty much just defined a huge amount of her contribution in the war. _“I can’t point them out like that is what I mean.”_   She amended quickly, the fainted hint of a smile edging her lips before fading in the face of her ominous warnings.  _“I just know that it’s there, close to you and waiting.  I don’t know when it’s going to strike, but I can feel that it’s close.  Please be careful and stick together!”_

“I’ll be careful, but as for sticking together, we might be more dangerous to each other than anyone else.”  He grumbled softly.  “For someone who’s not in conflict with me, he certainly knows how to make my life miserable.  Seriously Hitomi, he tried to kill me an hour ago.  This isn’t exactly easy on my nerves.” 

_“Should I ask what happened?”_   He took a small measure of satisfaction in the fact that Hitomi didn’t sound at all surprised, more resigned in fact.

“The whole draconian thing.  Turns out he doesn’t handle surprises very well.  Who knew?”  That was an understatement.  He’d never met anyone as tightly wound as the Dragonslayer captain.  “Look Hitomi, I-”  He was promptly cut off by a loud and insistent knocking at the door.  None of the palace servants would dare knock that obnoxiously and it didn’t have that authoritative sound of palace guards, meaning it was most likely Gaddes with a new emergency.

“I think the moron just did something stupid again… I’ll contact you later Hitomi?”  He shot an irritated glare at the door, hating having this moment interrupted and silently vowed that if it wasn’t an actual emergency, he was going to punch one of them in the face… he didn’t care which.  Rather than looking upset, Hitomi simply smiled patiently and nodded her head.

_“I’ll try to see what more I can learn for you… but Van, promise me that you’ll be patient.  Put the war behind you and start over, if you can’t, then the war between you will never end.”_   Yeah, easy for her to say, she was safe on the Mystic Moon and not having to dodge random attacks whenever the psycho got his panties in a bunch.  Seriously, it was practically an hourly occurrence.  How did Folken ever survive working with the madman for two years?  ….Oh… yeah…. The control conditioning…  Just thinking about that made his stomach churn and he took another large sip of his drink to try to rid his brain of the image of Folken and Dilandau together… ugh.

Hitomi faded away in the moonlight as he took a deep bracing breath before walking towards the door, trying to prepare himself for the latest catastrophe. 

Opening it up revealed a rather distraught looking Gaddes, his fist raised to pound out yet another brutal attack on the poor door. 

“Van!”  The older man grabbed onto the king’s arm and began pulling him out into the hallway, his eyes wide with panic.  “He jumped… he fucking jumped… we need… we need to get him!”  Gods of Gaea, he was nowhere near drunk enough to deal with this.  The Sergeant’s hair was in disarray, tears edged his eyes and the man looked about as unhinged as he’d ever seen him in his life.  Still, even with his panic, it took a few moments before his words sank in, leaving Van staring in utter shock.

“He jumped?  From the balcony?”  His mind quickly began estimating just how dangerous a drop it would have been.  Not immediately fatal if he landed right, but certainly broken legs and likely spine as well… Dammit!  This wasn’t what they needed right now!”  In his distraction, Gaddas had finished pulling him out into the hallway and they were currently racing towards the stairs, whisky bottle and glass still clutched in his hands.  “I thought he couldn’t try to kill himself!”  Was all he managed to sputter as he ran, dreading what he was going to find when they got outside.  Still, he hadn’t heard any cries of alarm yet, so maybe there wasn’t going to be a shattered corpse laying there on the courtyard stones.

“He caught himself and jumped onto another balcony, sort of hopped his way down to the ground then took off.  I don’t know where he is, but he’s unarmed and unescorted… the guards will kill him!”

“Well… they’ll try.”  Van found himself muttering to himself, fully aware that any guard attempting to apprehend the dragonslayer would be murdered without hesitation.  Then it would all be over.  King Aston would throw Dilandau in a cell to await execution, warning from Hitomi or not.

“I take it the break up didn’t go well?”  Maybe he was a tad drunker than he realized, that was rather crass given the situation.  Gaddes shot him a dark look over his shoulder but continued to drag him along, leaving the king to feel like an utter heel.

“He jumped off the damn balcony Van.  I’d say this is pretty much a worst case scenario.”  Perhaps it was better if he just didn’t speak. 

“So where does he go when he’s upset?”  And yet his mouth was still moving… dammit he needed another drink.

“I don’t know… normally he hangs out in the hangar and trains until he passes out from exhaustion.”  Well that certainly wasn’t much help seeing as how the Crusade was a few hundred miles away right now. 

“Where else?  You know the guy better than anyone else on Gaea.”    This time Gaddes slowed his frantic pace and actually took a moment to think, his brow furrowing as he sorted through the many possibilities.

“He could be in the hangar with the Alseides, he liked to work on his when something was bugging him… but he also sometimes hung out on the roof of the Crusade… he likes high places, probably from all the time on that damn floating rock.  Or he could even be racing back to the manor to get his damn toy, planning to burn the damn city to the ground a second time!”  It was clear that Gaddes was just working himself up again so Van drew himself up to his full… if somewhat less than impressive height and glared at the sergeant.

“Not even he’s that stupid.  He knows he needs Astoria right now.  You check the hangar and I’ll look at the rooves.  I can just fly overtop and cover more ground that way.  Stay calm and don’t let anyone else know what happened.  If the guards find out he’s running around unescorted, we’ll have a manhunt on our hands.”  Oh that pale bastard owed him big time for this.

Thankfully, Gaddes seemed to see the logic in his advice and nodded his head before taking off at a somewhat more sedate pace down the hallway.  Rather than follow him, Van instead closed his eyes and concentrated.  What the hell, it was worth a shot.  After all, that albino bastard had always been able to track him across the face of Gaea during the war so it stood to reason that he’d be able to do the same.  Besides, it wasn’t much different than looking for invisible guymelefs. 

Centering himself, he pushed out all outside sounds and worries, focussing instead on the missing Dragonslayer.  Rather than picturing what he looked like, Van instead focussed on the sense of him, the rage, determination and stubborn pride that flowed off of the other teenager in palpable waves.  The image of the pendant flickered through his mind, swinging back and forth, hunting for the source of his search and he could practically picture two crimson eyes staring into his own, defiant and filled with pain , the lambent energist glow shining in their depths.

His feet seemed to know where they were going and led by the insistent tug of the connection between them, he soon found himself in front of the guarded door to the sub levels of the palace.  The same guard was on duty as before, only now he seemed to be dozing at his post and didn’t even react until Van was nearly nose to nose with him.  It was a safe bet that Dilandau has simply snuck past him with little difficulty.  No wonder Folken had installed that strange mystical lock on the door down below.  This guard was an insult to the position, even if it did currently work in his favour.

“King Fanel.”  Bleary, bored eyes blinked a few times before a light seemed to flicker on in their depths as the guard seemed to finally realize that he was still on duty.  Nodding his head in respect… the action was somewhat spoiled by a rather wide yawn.  “What can I do for you?”  The man blinked lazily several times, barely aware enough to even realize that he should be embarrassed over this utter lack of professionalism.  No wonder he’d been stationed here at the end of a rarely used hallway.  He would be useless anywhere else.

“I wished to speak some more with the Scholar.”  It was worth a shot, though it was well past respectable visiting hours.  Rather than challenge him, the guard simply nodded his head and stepped aside, opening the door for him.

“I swear that man never sleeps, tinkering away with those damn Zaibach cursed devices.  Still can’t believe the King let that demon anywhere near them.”  The guard nodded his head, as if agreeing with himself, distaste clear on his slack face.  “Honestly, we’d be better served hanging that pale bastard from the gallows.”  It was an odd and new experience to feel a sudden surge of outrage on behalf of the Dragonslayer and Van could feel the muscles in his shoulders tightening as the guard blithely continued.

“You’re a good man King Fanel, keeping an eye on that monster.  We owe you a huge debt.  Still can’t believe that thing is one of our own… bloody traitor.  Pardon the language your Majesty.”

“The war is over.”  Van bit out the words curtly.  “Not everyone got to pick the side they were on.  He’s with us now and that choice should be respected.”  He couldn’t believe he’d just said that… him of all people!  Maybe he really was growing up a little… or it was the alcohol.  Actually, the latter was more likely. 

The guard stiffened at his cold chastisement and refrained from further comment as he walked past the man and headed down the darkened stairwell, using the scant torchlight to guide him.

Unsurprisingly, nothing had changed at all since his last visit an hour ago, though this time he found Scholar Invernes working diligently at a desk, happily writing on a scroll with a quill pen, a glass of cold tea resting by his hand.  A strange twisted piece of metal likely recovered from the Vione was perched on the edge of the desk and the man was dutifully sketching it out in painstaking detail.

“Well met once again King Fanel.”  The scholar said without looking up from his work.  “He’s inside with that information device.  The door isn’t locked at the moment, so feel free to go in, though I would ask that your weapons be left at the door.  If you two fight, I have no interest in getting between either of you but I will not allow blood to contaminate the artifacts.”  His voice was so pleasantly matter of fact that Van couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“How do I know he hasn’t armed himself during his wanderings?”  It was a sensible question and the scholar didn’t look at all upset by it.

“Because I made him put the dagger he took off the door guard on the table over there before I opened the door for him.  He’s a stubborn lad, but reasonable enough if you know how to speak to him.”  Van could only imagine how that conversation had gone and he gave the old scholar a nod of respect for standing up to what had likely been some rather graphic threats of bodily harm.  “He reminds me of my sweet Ariana, may Jeture guard her soul.”  On second thought, the scholar was likely insane.  “Go on now.”  He waved the king towards the doors.  “But remember to behave.  I don’t care what your rank is, If you damage the artifacts, I’ll haul you both out by your ears.”

Not having the heart to argue that a monarch took orders from no man, Van simply nodded his head, making a point of unbuckling his sword belt and leaving it on the nearby table next to the dagger.  Stepping into a room with Dilandau while unarmed likely was one of the stupider things he could do in his life, but leaving him unattended for any length of time would be far worse.

Still, it was with no small amount of trepidation that he stepped through the door which hissed softly open at his approach, then close obediently behind him.  Dilandau was instantly spotted standing in front of that damn information machine, his fingers lightly tapping at the strangely labelled buttons as various files opened up for him.

“Come to finish the job Fanelia?”  Yeah, the Dragonslayer was certainly in a mood if he’d resorted to calling him by his more formal name.  It would be so easy to slip into old habits and bite back, but a closer look at his old enemy stilled his tongue in his mouth.

Dilandau looked like hell.  It wasn’t often that he got to say something like that.  Even from his place at the door, Van could see that his eyes were bloodshot, dark smudges shadowing the pale skin beneath.  His flesh had a sort of pasty appearance rather than its usual alabaster glow and even that normally glossy silvery white hair hung limp and dull around his face.  His normally cocky posture was slouched over the console and there was something almost defeated in the way he hung his head.

“Yeah, Zaibach, I did.”  He shrugged and held up the bottle he still clutched in his hands.  “We’re both too damn sober to deal with today.  Care for a drink?”  Those hard crimson eyes studied him for a long moment, searching for some sort of trap or cruel jibe hidden in his words.  Instead, all Van did was meet the suspicion with a slight smile, giving the bottle a little wiggle so he could hear the contents slosh around inside.

“You’d better have brought glasses.  I’m sick of drinking out of bottles like a barbarian.”  Van’s smile faded slightly as he looked down at the single glass in his hand, a few splashes of whiskey still gracing the bottom.

“Shelf behind me, second level.  There’s some clean beakers.”  The Dragonslayer clarified, realizing that his hopes of civilization were dashed as usual.  “I’ll make due… wouldn’t be the first time.”  He added under his breath, the hint of a smile gracing his lips as he turned back to the screen, sorting through a few more coded files. 

“Are those more of the sorcerer files?”  Van found himself asking as he grabbed one of the beakers in question before approaching with his peace offering.  He didn’t bother to fill it until he was within Dilandau’s line of sight, knowing that the other youth wouldn’t trust anything he didn’t see poured personally. 

Rather than reply immediately, Dilandau waited for Van to pour, filling both glasses with a generous amount of alcohol and taking a sip to prove the lack of poison.  Snatching the beaker from the edge of the terminal, Dilandau helped himself to a healthy sized sip, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced down at the brown liquid.

“Not bad…Egzardian?”

“Not a clue.”  Van shrugged and allowed himself a much more modest sip.  “Palos recommended it.  I needed something stronger than wine.”

“How about that, the man is actually good for something.”

“We all have our talents.”  So far so good, neither of them had threatened either death of maiming.  Who would have guessed that alcohol would build the bridge between them?  “So what are you looking at?”  Much like every other sane Gaean, he couldn’t make heads nor tails of the strange symbols decorating the screen, though they looked a lot like the ones they’d been looking at earlier.

“Folken’s personal files.”  Dilandau took a somewhat more conservative sip of his drink, savouring the taste before swallowing.  Noting Van’s sudden look of interest, he motioned towards the monitor with the glass.  “I want to know how much that bastard knew about me.  If he knew that I was part of him and was just fucking around with me.”  Van couldn’t help but wince at the unfortunate choice of words.  The motion was obvious enough that Dilandau caught it out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

“Wanting to know if I fucked your big brother?”  There was a definite leer to his voice and Van was pretty sure he was just acting like an ass to cover up how badly everything was still bothering him.  “All spread out under him, that clawed hand of his grabbing my hips hard enough to bruise, trusting so deep into my ass that I could taste his cock in the back of my throat?…”  A bright pink tongue darted out, licking a few drops of whiskey from Dilandau’s lips as he practically purred the words.

Unable to block out the horrific images, Van instead took a much larger sip of his drink, praying fervently to be struck deaf.

“You can rest easy, he never touched me.”  Dilandau finally stated, releasing the king from the tormented imaginings of his mind.  “Not through lack of trying on my part though.  Between myself and his two little kittens, we pretty much came to the conclusion that the arm wasn’t the only dangly bit the dragons tore off of him.  Though, why he would have that flopping about is anyone’s guess.”  Honestly, there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to get him through this.  “All Folken cared about was his work and his plotting.  I’m pretty sure the man never even jerked himself off which likely explained his utter lack of humour.”

“Could we maybe not talk about Folken and sex anymore?”  Van hated how his voice practically squeaked and he quickly covered it up with a large sip of his drink.  Thankfully, Dilandau seemed to take some form of pity on him and with a faint chuckle, turned back to the screen.

“Bah, you’re no fun, it’s an endlessly amusing topic, but fine.  Oh… what do we have here?”  Grinning savagely, Dilandau leaned forward, interest shining in his eyes.  “HA!  That bastard!  I knew it!  Dallet was right!”

“What?  Right about what?  Who’s Dallet?”

“Hey, Dallet, I owe you twenty gidaru!”

“Right, of course… tell me your Dragonslayers aren’t here right now?”

“So you WANT me to lie?  That’s not very good of you Van, and here I thought you were all moral and what not.”  Dilandau took another sip of his whiskey, finishing the glass.  Giving it a somewhat thoughtful look, he then held it out to Van expectantly.  “Drink’s broken.  Fix it.”

“Most people would at least say please.”

“Most people are better at pumping others for information using alcohol.  Fill the cup before I remember that I hate you.”  Frowning slightly, Van obliged him, still glancing around somewhat nervously for the ever looming ghosts.

“So… what did you find?”  He finally asked, deciding to refill his own cup as well.  Taking a quick sip and enjoying the taste far more than Van did, Dilandau tapped one of the symbols on the screen triumphantly.

“This!”

“I can’t read that.”

“Oh… yeah… It’s a data log showing that Folken had shut down the systems for the doors to the Dragonslayers barracks the same time your damn Crusade showed up on our monitors.  _Routine diagnostic check_ it says, but not likely with that particular timing.  The bastard locked my men in our barracks!” 

Van frowned slightly in confusion and stared at the monitor.  That didn’t sound right.

“But… Allen had a Dragonslayer when he rescued me… some tiny little blonde.”  There was a sudden chill along his spine that didn’t feel at all pleasant and he had the sickening realization that the slayer in question had likely hit him.  This was further confirmed by Dilandau’s amused grin.

“That was Shesta.  You might not want to call him tiny, he’s the same height as you are.”  The albino tipped his glass in Van’s direction in a mocking salute.  “But you still got your ass handed to you Shesta, so don’t get too uppity.”  Yeah, this didn’t make Van feel at all comfortable knowing that dead enemies were surrounding him and likely planning to drag his soul back to the paths of the dead again.

“Relax Van, remember they’re the ones wanting us to get along.  Don’t insult them and they’ll leave you alone… mostly.  Now where was I?  Oh yeah, that bastard had locked the doors, sealing most of my team in our barracks.  Dallet Gatti and Shesta were on rounds at the time so didn’t get locked in.  Honestly, you should hear the story of the guys trying to get out and take part in the fight.  Guimel, Nagasi and Leorio ended up striping down and crawling through air ducts trying to get to a working control panel and reroute power to the doors.  They were the smallest members of the team and the only ones who could fit.  Damn Guimel was pissed off, he doesn’t really like confined spaces.  Then…”  He paused, a look of annoyance flickered across his face.  “I don’t care Guimel!  Rules are rules!  You were still caught out of uniform during duty hours so deal with it!”  Great… the whole homicidal gang was here.

“We weren’t the only squad locked away.  All the pilot’s barracks jammed up, leaving only those infantry goons to defend the Vione.  Add all of that onto the fact that I friggin TOLD him that we should head back to the Empire once we had you in custody, but nooo, he wanted to hang around Desdardin like some big floating target.  He might as well have waved around spotlights and sent off smoke flares.  Bastard didn’t even stealth the Vione did he?  NO! Of course not!”  Dilandau waved his cup around in anger, somehow managing to not spill a drop of alcohol.  He then began what was no doubt a poor attempt at mimicking Folken as he dropped his voice to a low monotone.  “You’re being paranoid Dilandau, the floating rocks will hide us perfectly well, Do not try to tell me how to do my job Dilandau.  Stay away from Escaflowne Dilandau.”  Taking another drink, Dilandau bared his teeth at the monitor.  “You just KNEW that I’d want to find out what was so important about that stupid hunk of junk, you KNEW it was booby trapped somehow and would explode.  Fucking thing nearly killed me!”

“Um… there are no traps on Escaflowne, I’ve never even heard of it exploding on someone… what did you do?”  Van found himself asking, honestly curious as to what had been going on while he’d been trapped in that room awaiting his rescue.  Shrugging, Dilandau took another sip, nearly draining his glass before handing it out to be refilled yet again.

“I just poked at the stupid jewel.  Folken had put his hand there and opened it up without a problem.  I wanted to see what the inside of an Ispano guymelef looked like.”

“oh….”

“What do you mean _oh_?!  There _was_ a trap?”  Dutifully, Van refilled the cup and once again topped off his own.

“No… it… it only reacts to members of the Fanelian royal family.  To anyone else, it’s just a stone.”  He couldn’t meet those crimson eyes even though he could feel them pressing down on him, likely filled with rage and disgust.  “It… it didn’t find you worthy… so it rejected you… violently.”

“Oh, but it found fucking Folken worthy!?  He’s the one who gave the order to attack Fanelia!  Ugh, stupid hypocritical judging demon armour…”  Angry, Dilandau tossed back the entire cup of alcohol in one shot, demanding yet another refill.  Van complied, though he did raise a rather skeptical eyebrow in the direction of the albino.

“You know… you’re supposed to sip whiskey.”

“Don’t tell me how to drink you glorified pigeon.”  Dilandau took a large swallow just to spite the king, flashing him a challenging grin.     “And that’s another thing!  Where did you get your damn sword!?  We disarmed you.  I remember we disarmed you.  No, don’t bother.  Folken gave it to you didn’t he?  Dammit!”  Another large swallow, another murderous glare at the machine.  “I had to endure a meeting with the Madoushi because of that mess.  Allowing myself to be scarred like some infantry dog… They refused to even fix it.  Telling me that I deserved to wear my failure on my face.  They blamed me for you getting away.  Folken never even got so much as a dark look.” 

Van wanted to protest his brother’s involvement, but even he had to admit that his escape had consisted of far too many wild coincidences to have not been the product of carefully constructed design.

“I stopped listening to him after that for the most part.”  Dilandau’s voice was soft, almost thoughtful sounding as he continued to stare at the screen, reading through various files as he did so.  “I think every other day I was being hauled into his office for insubordination in one form or another.  Gatti was scared that I was going to end up being either demoted or transferred to another ship… at the very least that he’d report me to the Madoushi and bring them in to “reprogram” me… but he didn’t.  I always wondered why.”  Again, a slender finger tapped the screen, tracing over several lines of symbols.

“It says here that after the hangar explosion, he started to suspect my origins and began probing into the Eidolon project, trying to figure out where I’d come from.  He and Shroden didn’t seem to get along at all and that’s likely why I was sent to work under him in the first place.  Not only would I make a nice little spy, but I bet that bastard got some sick amusement out of ordering me to fuck my genetic father.   He’d have held that over Folken’s head indefinitely.”  This time it was Van who drained his glass in one long masochistic swallow.  Every time he thought that Zaibach couldn’t get any more sick or twisted, they outdid themselves.

“It says here that Shroden was aware of my insubordination and was pushing at Folken to become my Anchor…” Dilandau frowned slightly and opened up a different file, comparing the two and seeming to not like what he was seeing.

“What’s wrong?”  Taking a guess that whatever was about to be revealed was likely going to be unpleasant, Van topped off both their cups.  When he nearly spilled the alcohol onto the console, he realized that he likely had had far too much to drink already, but there was no way he was going to deal with any of this sober… and neither was Dilandau.  It seemed that a drunk Dilandau was far easier to deal with than a sober one, and he’d rather keep it that way.

“These are test results from a Madoushi visit from around the same time… and it says that I had an Anchor, but if I wasn’t fucking Folken, who the hell had I imprinted on?”

“Well, who were you sleeping with at the time?  Wouldn’t it be them?”  Yeah, the alcohol was definitely working because he wasn’t nearly as repulsed as he thought he’d be by saying that.

“How am I supposed to know?  It’s not like the Madoushi took the time to really explain how they were controlling me, besides, I still don’t have all my memories yet.”  Dilandau grumbled irritably.  “I’ve slept with a lot of people and I think it’s a safe bet that I wasn’t the mindless slave of all of them…Would you mind not glaring at me like that?  I’m a healthy teenage male dammit.  Just because you don’t know what your cock is for doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be celibate.” 

Biting his tongue, Van counted to ten several times, doing his best not to escalate the situation.  Upsetting Dilandau wouldn’t get them any answers.  The answer was here, he knew it… they just needed to sort out the information they had available.

“I’m not celibate.”  He grumbled instead.  “I’m just waiting for the right girl.  Anyway, that’s not the point… They wanted to control you and used sex to do it right?  So who did you actually behave for?”  At least Dilandau seemed to give the question some serious thought and he sipped his drink thoughtfully for a few moments.

“Well, on the Vione there was Chief Engineer Ransom.  The man had the most incredible tongue.”  He couldn’t quite resist flashing the king a wicked grin.  “Granted, he never really pissed me off, not that we interacted much outside of the bedroom… and this one time in the water exchange room”

“I don’t need the details!”  Van cut in quickly, hating the blush that was heating his cheeks.  Honestly, the Dragonslayer was worse than Allen.  At least the Knight never elaborated on his conquests.  What was it with these Schezars?

“There’s a lot of people I got along decently with Van.”  Dilandau finally replied, apparently bored of provoking the king.  “I don’t remember going out of my way to mind my manners around anyone though.”  He shrugged slightly and resumed sorting through files.  “My memory is too fragmented to be of any real use with this.  I’m sure Folken had some theories we could use though.” 

Unsure of what to do in the ensuing silence, Van drained and refilled his glass yet again, deciding to focus on the growing warmth in his gut rather than the ominous presence of the ghosts surrounding him and the horrible truths being revealed.

“Well, it seems that Folken was hiding the fact that I hadn’t imprinted on him from the Madoushi.  It seemed that I wasn’t the only one under orders.  Hmmm a lot of self-lecturing about how wrong it was to seduce a fourteen year old boy, blah blah blah.  Damn that man was repressed.”  Dilandau’s voice cut through the silence of the room, making Van jump slightly.  “Come on you overgrown buzzard.  You had your pointy nose stuck in everyone’s business, you had to know something.”  The Dragonslayer chewed on his lower lip as he flipped through a few more pages on the file before pausing, his fingers above the keys and trembling slightly.   

He seemed to be debating with himself over something.  Before Van could ask what the problem was, he tapped the key and the files immediately vanished only to be replaced by a moving image.  For a moment, Van could only stare in shock thinking that they were somehow watching someone from afar… then he recognized the people on the monitor… then what they were doing.  Gods of Gaea… forget the glass; he just started drinking out of the bottle.

The screen showed a room, a bedroom to be exact, rather similarly designed to the one he’d been held in on board the Vione, though a tad smaller and with more weapons visibly displayed.  The focus seemed to be two figures on a large bed, their limbs intertwined as their bodies rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm.  Dilandau was easy enough to recognize, his pale form practically glowed as he straddled the lap of his lover, long pale legs wrapped around the other youths waist, arms holding their bodies close together as his neck arched back, a look of utter bliss caught on his face as his partner traced bites along his throat.

Whoever he was with was heavier in build, but still slender and strong, with pale skin that looked almost honey gold when compared to the albino’s alabaster limbs.  They had brown hair that was fringed in front, the longer locks creating a nice contrast against the silvery tresses of the captain.

Van recognized him after a few shock filled moments.  It was the prisoner from Freid, the arrogant and cold dragonslayer they’d captured… Dammit, what had his name been?  It had started with an M… most likely an M… ugh, it was impossible to remember when he was staring at those two naked bodies undulating against each other, their every movement utterly mesmerizing and capturing his attention no matter how badly he wanted to look away.

Strong muscles flexed in an almost hypnotic rhythm as they writhed against each other, pleasure radiating off them in waves.  There was something so utterly intimate and unguarded about this moment that Van found his face heating up.  He just knew that he was bright red and if he spoke his voice would be little more than a squeak, but he couldn’t turn away from what he was watching… it was oddly beautiful in its passion.

Dilandau stared at the screen as if enthralled, his eyes wide and filled with naked hunger coupled with a near overwhelming need.  He seemed to have utterly forgotten that Van even existed, or anything other than the two people having sex on the monitor. 

A hand reached out and gently traced along the spine of the darker of the two figures on the monitor and Van could actually hear his breath hitch for a moment.

The air chilled around them, the temperature dropping harshly enough that the king could see their breath condense in the air.  Rather than feel a sense of anger or danger, instead the air was heavy with sorrow and he watched as Dilandau’s eyes fluttered closed, his head arching back in pleasure, the exact mirror motion as on the screen.  Unsure of what to do in this situation, Van averted his gaze, wanting to give the Dragonslayer a bit of privacy as he… er… indulged in necrophilia?  What exactly could he call this?

It was exactly this sort of situation that alcohol had been invented for and Van wasted no time in tipping back the bottle, indulging in another long drink.  When did his life get so strange?  Here he was in the middle of Astoria, drinking with Dilandau Albatou of all people and watching him make out with a damn ghost while they watched images of likely that same couple have sex on some strange window!

As quickly as the cold had come, it vanished, leaving Van shivering slightly and gripping the bottle a tad too tightly.  Risking a glance over at Dilandau, he saw the other youth taking a deep breath, longing radiating from his every pore as he leaned forward, using the machine to prop his arms up.  His eyes fluttered closed, but not before Van caught a glimpse of utter devastating loss in their depths.  More impressively, he could swear that he saw the glistening reflection of a tear trapped on those pale lashes before Dilandau regained control over himself. 

“You’re such a tease Miguel.”  He murmured with soft fondness, the corner of his mouth turning up in the faintest of smiled before he seemed to realize that Van was still standing there, staring utterly aghast at the display.  “See that Van?  That’s a level of technique you’ll never be able to manage.”  Dilandau motioned towards the screen, determined to draw attention away from his moment of weakness.  Crimson eyes shifted to stare raptly at the moving figures as they twisted against each other with growing urgency, their pace quickening.  “Damn he could play my body like a harp.”

“I’ll keep his technique in mind for whenever I get the sudden urge to bugger psychopaths.”  Van retorted, refusing to look in the screens direction.  He’d seen more than enough naked flesh in the last few seconds to last a lifetime.  Dammit, his could practically feel the heat radiating off of his face!

“Heh, you sound jealous… Oh sweet merciful fate… I miss that ass.  Look at him flex.”

“I’d rather not… look, how about I leave you two… or however many of you there are alone for a few minutes… You guys can do… whatever it is you do.”  His discomfort only seemed to further amuse the albino who chuckled slightly and Van was pretty sure the dragonslayers were laughing at him too.

“I wish.  They can’t touch me for more than a few seconds or they risk doing permanent damage to me.  At least that’s what they say.  It seems that none of my lovers want to touch me these days…”  Dilandau’s smile faded and the king saw a deep soul shattering pain in his eyes before Dilandau once again drained his glass and silently demanded a refill.

Van obliged him, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried to figure out what to say in response to that statement.  Deep inside, he knew that it was for the best that he and Gaddes be separated, but damn if he didn’t feel guilty about it.  How would he have felt if someone had torn Hitomi out of his arms?  Sure, logically he knew that they had to be apart, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Look… about that-”

“Do NOT attempt to talk to me about my love life Fanelia.  We’re not friends, we’re barely even allies.  I know you loathe the idea of the two of us together so keep your smug comments to yourself before I make you eat that damn bottle.”  It was incredibly disconcerting to be threatened by someone who still had the majority of their attention fixed on watching sex acts.

Glaring at the albino, he opened his mouth to give a vicious retort when he noticed that Dilandau’s sad look of longing had shifted into a faint frown of confusion.  Curious, he forced his attention back to the screen, sending up a silent prayer to the gods that the sex was over.

It seemed that for once tonight, fate was with him, though he found himself mirroring the frown as he realized that the focus of the scene had narrowed, fixing almost exclusively on Dilandau’s face.  He’d never seen such a serene and open expression on his nemesis’ face and for a moment, he was shocked beyond words.  Dilandau looked so young and innocent up on that screen, the hard icy glare gone from his eyes.  That malicious sneer had even been wiped from his lips and replaced with a warm smile which lit up his entire face. As Van watched, the image Dilandau laughed warmly at something his lover said, playfully leaning forward and kissing the other youth on the cheek before ruffling the brown hair.  Gods of Gaea, Dilandau was practically glowing, his eyes never leaving his partners, drinking in his every breath. 

There was no sound, for which Van had initially been thankful for, but now he found himself wondering what had amused the vicious captain and prompted that impulsive kiss.  Even now, he could see their lips moving as they spoke to one another in what looked like hushed tones.

“Stay here tonight.”  Dilandau’s soft voice was barely a whisper, his voice perfectly matching the lips of his recorded counterpart.  “I feel like if I let you go, you’ll vanish into the shadows.”

“Then I’ll dance in the darkness sir.  Isn’t that what you said to me once?”  His voice dropped slightly as he spoke the words from Miguel’s lips.  While not as deep as Van remembered the teen’s voice being, Dilandau did manage to capture the gentle passion conveyed in the other youths face perfectly.

“Mmm that sounds far too poetic for me.  I must have been drunk at the time.”

“Clearly.  So tell me, if I stay tonight what’ll we do to pass the time?”  The image Dilandau laughed and lightly bit Miguel’s ear, his eyes practically dancing in amusement.

“I’m sure we can think of something.”  His smile faded slightly and the look on his face shifted to a mix of seriousness and longing.  “Just hold me?  I already miss the feel of your arms around me.”

“I told you I’d make it worth your while.  Besides, you needed a proper send-off since we’re going to be living rough for the foreseeable future hunting the dragon through Freid.  At least the reports all say that the duchy will fall easily to Zaibach once we attack.”

“Hmph, he should just let me torch that damn rat’s nest and be done with it.  Stay the night at least?  This is going to be our last soft bed for a while.”  Image Dilandau licked his lips somewhat nervously; trying to express something he had no experience with feeling.  “Don’t leave me alone?”

“Never sir… I’ll be by your side forever.”  The look on the image Dilandau’s face was one of pure bliss, as if he’d just been handed his greatest desire.  There was no mistaking the light shining in those crimson eyes; the pale captain was in love with his subordinate.  It poured out of every pore, making him practically glow as he stared into the warm grey eyes of the other youth.  He might not have ever said the words out loud, but there was no mistaking the depths of his feelings. 

The file recording ended moments later, returning them to the beginning where the two lovers were once again entwined on the bed, captured in mid coitus.

Next to him, Dilandau closed his eyes and took a deep bracing breath, pulling himself out of the memory of that intimate moment and returning back to this harsh reality.  

“I… I didn’t know they’d recorded that… dammit, I didn’t even know Folken had set up cameras in my room, the perverted bastard.  Hope he got an eyeful.”  Lips pulled back into a rather familiar sneer and Van had to admit to himself that maybe it was better that Folken was dead because he seriously wanted to punch his brother in the face a few times himself.  How sick was that!?  Spying on someone’s private moments!  What had the man been thinking?

“So that was just before…” 

“Before he was captured and murdered, yes.  Ten days if you want to be precise.  It was our last real time alone before we were tracking you through the damn jungle.”

“We didn’t kill him you know…”  Van murmured, noticing how Dilandau’s hands were balling up into tight fists.  Fully aware that he was risking losing what was left of the alcohol to another fit of temper, the king passed the albino the bottle.  It was quickly snatched from his hands and drunk, the young captain for once not caring about how uncouth the lack of glasses was.  His adam’s apple bobbed as he drank several long swallows in quick succession before slamming the bottle down hard enough on the console to make the screen flicker warningly.

“No, you didn’t kill him.”  Dilandau snarled in a low voice filled with rage.  “That disgusting doppleganger did, and he paid the price for touching one of my men.  What you bastards did was just as bad.  Honourless dogs.”

Confused, Van could only stare silently and wait for clarification, though he did shudder slightly at the memory of the remains they’d found at the temple where he’d fought the Dragonslayers on that horrible night.   There hadn’t been enough left of the corpse to even identify race let alone identity.  It had been little more than liquid goop and judging by the hideous screams torn from Hitomi’s throat as she’d shared the spy’s death, it had been excruciating in the extreme.  If there was one thing the albino excelled at, it was revenge.

“We found his body… after Freids retreat.  My men and I, we wanted to give him a proper burial rather than the pauper’s grave we figured you’d given him.  He hadn’t even merited that much.  Some scouts had found him on a patrol… or at least what was left of him.”  Dilandau closed his eyes, but not before Van saw the glowing red glimmer of energist light in their depths.

“He’d been strangled to death, his throat crushed from behind.  But that’s wasn’t the worst insult.  His body had been stripped and tossed out into the forest for the animals to feast on.  My beautiful Miguel… torn apart and savaged like a piece of carrion.”

 Bile rose in Van’s throat at the thought of such an ignoble fate.  He couldn’t imagine prince Chid ordering such treatment of a body, even that of an enemy.  The boy was too kind, too generous and far too much like his real father to dishonour a fallen warrior like that.  However, it wasn’t too hard to imagine some of the guards doing such a thing.  They’d all heard what had happened to the real Plaktu after all, his desiccated corpse left in the woods, stripped and gnawed on by scavengers.  Freid was a strong believer in equal retribution.

“I know you don’t want to hear an apology from me and I doubt any of your men do either… but no one deserves that.  I don’t care what side of the war you’re on.  All lives lost should be respected.” 

“None of my men were given proper burials.”  Dilandau murmured, looking up at the screen again, his eyes fixed on the frozen image of Miguel.  “I’d promised them greatness, a chance to change the world… but I couldn’t even give them respect in death.  They lost everything for me.”

“If they regretted it, they wouldn’t be there right now with you Dilandau.”  Van replied, fully aware that the specters of his enemies were likely still hovering around them, whether he could sense them or not

“I don’t need a pep talk from the man who killed them Van.”  The Dragonslayer snapped though a lot of the bite was missing from his words.  “What I need is to know why Folken saved this conversation, why he was so interesting in this moment.  He never cared who I fucked before, so what made this time so special?”  Angrily, he began pushing the buttons on the console once again, returning to the original file and reading through it.  His lips thinned in anger and he swore softly under his breath moments later, prompting Van to cautiously reach over and move the bottle out of immediate throwing reach.

“Found your answer?”

“Shroden.”  He snarled the name.  “Shroden was there on the Vione, monitoring the feed.  He saw everything.”

“And… that’s bad?”

“Any other fucking time…”  Snarling softly, Dilandau ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the silvery locks angrily.  “He can read lips.  He knew what I was saying… saw how I looked at Miguel….”

“And he didn’t approve?”

“Shroden is many things; a controlling bastard is one of them.”  Dilandau sounded far too accepting of that fact for it to be healthy.  “Folken writes that he was furious.  Shroden accused him of putting the project in jeopardy and demanded that he fix it.”  Pale brows furrowed as he read on.  “I… There’s a hole in my memories… Something happened…after this.”  He gestured towards the screen and the entwined lovers, sweat beading his brow as he continued to stare at the symbols on the screen intently, trying to break through the walls in his mind.  “I remember we were interrupted…shortly after that moment.  I… I had to leave I think… but I don’t remember the next few hours.”  This time Van noted a distinct tremble to Dilandau’s hands and felt the room chill slightly, raising the hair on the back of his neck.  Whatever was upsetting the captain was bothering his men as well.

“What’s your first memory after that?  It might help.”  As much as he wanted to reach out and offer some form of comfort, instinct warned him to keep his hands to himself.  The only person he’d ever seen the albino accept physical comfort from was Gaddes, and most of the time, even that was rejected.  He was rather sure that any attempts on his part would result in violent retribution.

“Waking up in my room the next morning for training and drop prep.”  Dilandau shrugged.  “I felt like shit.  My head was killing me and I could barely focus on anything.  Folken was going to delay our launch but I overruled him.  Gatti figured it was just cabin fever.  I never did well cooped up on the ship and I’d been confined to the Vione since the Crusade’s attack… aside from my little visit to Palas to play with you.” 

“Must have been rough, only one massacre that colour.”

“It was!  I…hmph, cute Van.”  Crimson eyes glanced over at him, vaguely amused at being caught by the sarcasm. 

“What else does it say?  If Folken never… you know… with you… then he had to have done something about this Shroden monster.  I mean, the guy was pretty much accusing him of treason right?”

“Basically, yes.  Folken might have been the Empire’s chief Strategos, but the Madoushi were an extension of the Emperor Himself.  Failing to follow their orders was unthinkable… though clearly Folken thought it and even acted on it.  The Bastard.”

“Could we maybe stop insulting my shared parentage with him?  He was my brother remember, and technically, sort of your father.”

“Don’t remind me.”  Dilandau took another drink and then stared at the screen for a long moment.   His eyes narrowed dangerously and his lips thinned as slender fingers tightened on the cup hard enough to begin to crack the sturdy glass.  Woefully familiar now with the albino’s sudden bursts of violence, Van quickly stepped back out of range as Dilandau screamed in rage, smashing his glass against the monitor.  Glass peppered the air around them, drawing faint pinpricks of pain where they bounced off his skin though thankfully failed to cut.

“What the hell Dilandau!?”  The king yelled, hand immediately going to his sword, ready to defend himself.  Thankfully, the enraged captain’s attention was still fixed on the screen, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth.

“He did it… he really did it…”

“Did what!?”

“He murdered Miguel… he set it all up.”  Death glittered in those crimson eyes and Van could feel energy ripple through the room in a dangerous wave.  In the far corner, he could faintly hear something beeping softly, but he didn’t dare take his attention off Dilandau long enough to place what it was.

The air felt thick and heavy, pressing down on him from all sides, but there was a crackling energy to it as well that made his teeth ache and his hair stand on end.  The pendant around his neck began to glow softly in response and out of the corner of his eyes he could see the faintly shimmering shape of several young men backing away carefully.  Oh that wasn’t good…  He really hoped that Dilandau wasn’t about to summon another pillar of light… he’d never seen one called up inside a building before but he was rather sure the resulting damage to the palace would be extraordinary.

“Dilandau… you need to calm down… whatever you’re doing, it’s a bad idea.”

Rather than answering, the pale captain growled, actually growled like an animal and turned around to glare at the fate machine at the far end of the room, his glowing gaze promising untold destruction.

“He used his damn toy… he used it to alter the fight at the lake.”  Van remembered that horrible fight. He’d caught the dragonslayers by surprise because Hitomi had been able to see their positions despite their cloaks and helped him evade the worst of their attacks until they’d finally surrounded him.  Like a pack of wolves with a buck, they’d begun tearing him apart on all sides and he’d known that he was doomed.  It had seemed like a miracle, Allen suddenly dropping down from above and forcing the vicious teenagers back, giving him space to fight and a chance to survive and actually strike back.

No… not luck… fate.  Fate had been altered and his life had been saved.

“He used that thing to manipulate me, to channel power through me and alter the fight so that you’d win, so that he’d die.  This thing killed Miguel!”  Dilandau pointed at the screen, his finger jabbing it hard enough to actually rock the monitor back slightly.  “ _I see that I have no choice_.”  The infuriated albino quoted, adopting Folkens precise speech patterns flawlessly.  “ _The Madoushi have lost patience in my platitudes and assurances, they demand results or they will pull the Eidolon project out of my reach.  One of my greatest fears is what damage Dilandau will do in their name if truly let off his leash, or worse, what they will do to him._

_“As much as these actions appal and disgust me, I fear that we’ve both been backed into a corner by fate.  If I do not act, then Van will be killed.  I can see the bloodlust in Dilandau’s eyes whenever there is mention of my brother and know that no mercy will ever be extended from that quarter.  My control over him is tenuous at best, growing weaker every day.  The next time the two cross blades, I won’t be able to pull him off and Van will die.  If that happens, then Gaea is lost.  Mother forgive me, I must choose between my brother and my son._

_“In the end however, I’ve already made my choice.  The needs of the many far outweigh the desires of the few.  I shall sacrifice Dilandau’s lover, his anchor as the Madoushi have ordered.  He’ll be confined in isolation until I cement the anchor union between us.  Once he’s brought to heel properly, I’ll be able to see my plans through without undue threat to Van or Gaea._

_“I have in my possession locks of hair and blood from both Dragonslayers, it should be simple enough to focus the energy of the Fate Alteration Engine through them, using Dilandau as the focus.  His unique energy signature will allow for maximum strength and will likely even boost the alteration effects.  I’ll have to make a note of the proceedings.”_

As Dilandau’s voice trailed off, he shot the machine another poisonous glare and  started to advance towards it, the power around him building and Van had no doubt that he was about to do something not only horribly destructive, but likely highly self-sabotaging.  “He said he was going to rescue him!  He said he’d bring him back to me and I believed him!” His voice grew louder with every word until Van was pretty sure that any moment now, that idiot guard would be appearing to figure out what was going on.

“Dilandau!  Whatever you’re thinking of doing, it won’t bring Miguel back and it won’t hurt Folken.  All it will do is weaken us!”  The young king stepped between Dilandau and the machine, hoping that he wasn’t about to do something insanely stupid. 

“He hurt my men!  HE USED ME TO KILL MY MEN!”  Dilandau’s voice rose to an unholy screech and the air around him seeming to ripple violently around him.  The air was stolen from Van’s very lungs as the sudden rise in pressure threatened to crush him.  A horrible wet tearing sound filled the air as Dilandau’s screech of rage turned into a shriek of agony.  Staggering, the Dragonslayer lurched forwards suddenly, his back arching sharply as his ribs flexed, contorted then finally burst apart. 

Horror struck, Van lunged forward, trying to grab at the tortured youth.  Aghast, he watched as Dilandau’s jacket fell apart, torn into bloody tatters as two massive wings exploded from his back.  Blood and feathers sprayed across the room and Van felt a hot splash across his face.  The lab equipment was knocked clear off the table as was Van’s whiskey glass.  The sound was an all too appropriate counterpoint to the screams and Van was rather sure that he was going to be seeing this over and over again in future nightmares.

It was nothing like the smooth majestic unfurling he’d grown used to whenever he’d seen another Draconian spread their wings.  This was a brutal eruption unlike anything he’d ever seen and judging by the sounds, it was every bit as painful as it looked.

Those hellishly glowing eyes rolled back in their sockets as Dilandau took another staggering step forward, swayed visibly and then began to topple.  Unable to help himself, Van moved quickly and caught the barely conscious albino, carefully lowering them both to the floor.

For a moment, Dilandau actually tried to fight him, his fists pummeling weakly at the king’s chest, but there was no strength to his limbs.  Rather than releasing him, Van held him closer, feeling the violent tremors tearing through the other teen’s body.  Soft whimpers of pain reached his ears and those great wings folded around them, surrounding them in a cocoon of bloody feathers.

“Hey, you ok?”  He asked softly, noting dimly that he couldn’t even feel a hint of the presences of the other dragonslayers.  Whatever power had saturated the room seemed to have driven them away… or they’d run in terror of their leader’s temper.  Both were viable possibilities. “Talk to me Dilandau, let me know that you’re alright.”

Rather than answering him with words, the fearsome warrior continued to cling to him like a lifeline, pressing closer against him as he sought the warmth of his touch.  The wings pulled in closer, pressing against them protectively and Van couldn’t help but note the softness of the feathers beneath the slick blood.  

Dilandau’s chest heaved as he drew in deep panicking breathes, his eyes wide and glazed, the pupils contracted so harshly that they were little more than tiny black pinpricks floating in a sea of crimson.  At least that strange glow was fading, but the king could still see the telltale flicker in their depths.

Vague memories flickered through his mind of his mother humming softly and gently running her fingers through his own wings when he was little.  It had always comforted him during storms or after nightmares and he found himself wondering if maybe the other youth might benefit from it.  The files had said that Dilandau was conditioned to respond to physical stimuli after all.  Logically, it should help center and calm the panicking teenager.

“It’s alright… the pain should fade shortly.”  Van murmured, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around those trembling shoulders while the other reached out and gently stroked the nearest wing.  At the first touch, the great limb twitched violently away like a scared animal and Dilandau whimpered again softly, ducking his head as he struggled to control his breathing.  Undaunted, Van reached out once more, his fingertips lightly stroking the short marginal covert feathers.

This time, the wings only gave the slightest of twitches before relaxing and lowering, allowing the gentle touches.  It was difficult to ignore the tackiness of the blood against his fingers but Van swallowed the momentary disgust as he carefully slid his fingers between the softness of each feather, tracing the fever warm skin beneath.

“What are you doing?”  Dilandau’s voice was soft and almost detached sounding.  There wasn’t any violence hidden in its depths, the youth’s rage having been expunged by the agony of the appearance of his new appendages.

“Stroking your wings.”  Van did his best to sound as matter of fact as possible, not wanting to add further strain to the already tense situation.  “My mother used to do this for me when I was little.  It always made me feel better.”  He received a soft hrumph from the dagonslayer as Dilandau let his head fall forward, resting his brow on Van’s shoulder.

“Do I look like some weak little runt?”  The albino grumbled softly though he made no move to pull the wing out of Van’s reach.  Instead, he lay there in silence for several more minutes while the king pointedly refused to answer the question, preferring to continue his gentle ministrations.  It was odd really, the king reflected as he allowed himself the chance to enjoy the feel of feathers against his fingertips.  Though he’d been born Draconian, he’d never really taken the time to either examine or admire his own wings.  He certainly had never had the opportunity to simply stroke the wings of another.  Despite Fanelia’s begrudging acceptance of his heritage, his mother had deeply impressed on him the need to keep their magnificent wings tucked away from sight.  Even where they ruled and were loved, they could never forget that they carried the cursed blood of their race in their veins.

It was odd to admit that he was taking as much comfort from the touch as Dilandau likely was, and privately he hoped that this moment of quiet peace wouldn’t be cut short.

“…It feels strange.”  Dilandau finally murmured, his voice muffled by Van’s shirt.  “It’s like I have another set of arms… only that’s not quite right… They feel softer, like they’re covered in cloth.  It’s like wearing silk after being naked for weeks on end… and having nerves in the cloth.”

“There are a lot of nerve endings there to help you in flight.  You’ll feel the air currents, temperature differences, even air pressure changes.  It’s great in the air but more than a little distracting on the ground.”

“Don’t be so over analytical you dumb pigeon.”  Dilandau mumbled, his wing stretching slightly to allow better access for Van’s gentle fingers.  “You sound like Folken… taking the fun out of everything.  Just say that yeah, it feels good and be done with it.”  Van allowed himself a soft chuckle and obliged the rather less than subtle hint to continue his ministrations.

“Alright, it feels really good.”

“See? Was that so hard?”  The albino snickered softly, likely indulging in some sort of inner joke but Van wasn’t about to question his change in temperament.  He’d had enough of volatile Dilandau to last several lifetimes.  Granted, cuddly Dilandau was more than a tad disconcerting.  He’d never pictured the feared Dragonslayer as being snuggly.

“Feeling better?”

“The alcohol is kicking in nicely if that’s what you’re asking.  My brain is pretty much numb to all of this and the pain is fading.”  Van supposed that this was pretty much a best case scenario considering the circumstances.  “I’m pretty sure I’ll likely have a nervous breakdown tomorrow once I sober up… hey, are these things going to be permanent?”  The question was asked lightly though Van could just imagine how traumatizing it would be to have someone as narcissistic as Dilandau be forced to adjust to yet another physical disfigurement.

“No…”  Gods of Gaea, let that be true.  “If you’re like the rest of us, you should be able to pull them in when you want.”  This time Dilandau actually shifted, crimson eyes glancing first at the wings, then at Van, skepticism shone in their depths.

“All innuendo aside, there’s no way something that big is fitting inside me.”  Again the albino couldn’t help but snicker, the rather impressive amount of alcohol he’d recently consumed helping blunt the impact of what was going on with his body.  “Big wings, itty bitty body… granted, I’m bigger than you are… are your wings tiny like the rest of you?”    Perhaps Dilandau wasn’t the only one who was drunk because Van found himself grinning almost childishly in response to the teasing.

“Wanna see?”  Every instinct in his body screamed at him to keep them hidden, to not show his wings unless the situation absolutely demanded it, but the alcohol gave him a boldness he normally wouldn’t share.  Honestly, there was a deep loneliness in his soul, one which begged to have such an intimate part of himself acknowledged.  Finally, here was someone who could truly appreciate his wings for what they were, who could thrill at the feel of the wind on his feathers and the ache of an extended flight.  It made him almost reckless as he sought for that shred of kinship the two of them could share.

Dilandau nodded his head eagerly, his eyes bright with the prospect of a new discovery and though he pulled back, he didn’t remove his wings from Van’s grasp.  The kings fingers felt good dammit and the dragonslayer wasn’t about to deny himself pleasure if he didn’t have to.

With a surprising lack of modesty, Van slipped his shirt over his head, loathing the idea of needlessly ruining it.  As the garment dropped to the floor, the king closed his eyes and focussed on flexing the muscles of his back.  There was a momentary sharp ache, a buildup of pressure which grew quickly until it was just short of becoming actual pain.  Then, a bursting release and a new sense of awareness as his own snowy white wings arched up from his back, opening wide and practically glowing in the light of the rooms various machines.

For a long moment, Dilandau simply stared at them in awe, his somewhat pickled brain was drawn in by their beauty and he lacked the self-control to hide his reactions.

“They’re gorgeous!  Why would you hide something like that!?”  The albino found himself saying, his voice breathy with awe.  Unable to help himself, he reached out a hand to touch them and smiled as Van angled one of the wings closer.  “So soft… they’re softer than a real bird’s feather.  They feel like silk… and they glisten.”

“Yours will shine too once they’re clean.”  The king found himself saying, strangely at ease with his one-time enemy gently handling his delicate wings.  That certainly got Dilandau’s attention and he glanced over at his own bloody wings, trying to picture them clean and gleaming in the light of the room.

“So get me some water and a cloth.  I want to see them shine.”  He stated imperiously, picking up part of his ruined shirt and trying to wipe some of the gore free from the feathers.  Surprisingly, it seemed to work rather well, the feathers were impressively resistant to staining, something Van had always been grateful for over the course of the war.  Still, it would work much more easily with water. 

“You know.”   He found himself saying.  “Washing them in a lake or fountain would likely work faster.” 

“Likely.”  Dilandau agreed.  “But I don’t see either here at the moment, and I’m not walking around the palace dragging two great bloody wings behind me.  The guards would be convinced that I’d slaughtered someone.”  The albino shrugged, not looking overly concerned with this.  “So then.”  He stated, amazing Van with how well he was handling everything.  “How do these things work?”

“You’re… you’re not freaking out over this?”  Van couldn’t quite keep the incredulous edge out of his voice as he eyed the inebriated dragonslayer cautiously.  Drunk or not, the other teen had been far too volatile tonight for Van to wholly drop his guard.  Rather than grow angry with the question, Dilandau simply chuckled softly and shrugged once more.  The movement caused his wing to pull from Van’s hand and twitch almost violently.

“I’m drunk enough that I’m going to seriously regret this in the morning and have been pretty much been kicked in the nuts repeatedly for the past few hours.  Like I said, I’m numb now.  Deliciously numb.”  Dilandau paused thoughtfully, taking a moment to just stare at their wings.  “I mean, it’s not like they’re going to go away if I break things right?  The Madoushi made me like this.  Hells, they’d probably be thrilled over the wings, the sick bastards.” 

He shrugged slightly, the motion grossly exaggerated by the resulting movement of his wings.  Van lost his hold on them and struggled to not think about how cold his hand suddenly felt in their absence. 

“Everyone thinks that I’m a demon already, at least now I can be honest about it.”

“You’re not a demon dammit.”  Van shot back, suddenly angry at the disparaging remark.  “You’re a draconian, a child of Atlantis.  That’s something that should be respected and honoured!”

“Oh?”  Dilandau arched an elegant silvery white eyebrow skeptically.  “So why do you hide them?”  His slender fingers continued to stroke along the primaries of Van’s wing, making the king shiver at the sensation.  “You’re a king, a hero… why do you pretend to be human when you’re obviously not?”

Now it was Van’s turn to pull his wing back, reluctant to break the physical connection with the other teen but the sudden bout of self-consciousness was too strong to resist.  Shyness overtook him and he found himself starting down at the floor, his mother’s voice echoing in his memories

“People… they wouldn’t understand.”

“Have you tried to make them?”  Dilandau sounded honestly curious and Van found himself looking up, large brown eyes meeting shining crimson for the first time without a trace of malice in their depths.  “By the sounds of it, the Crusade crew knew what you are, and I’m guessing you little cat and the moon bitch knew as well.  Did they condemn you for it?”  Now it was Van’s turn to frown thoughtfully as he thought about his friends.  Sure, they’d been shocked.  Who wouldn’t be to find out that they’d been travelling with a creature of legend?  Then there was Hitomi.  She’d stared at him in utter awe, as if he was something magical and beautiful. No one had ever looked at him like that and it had melted something in his heart.

“Th…they knew… it was hard to avoid… You guys had carved me up pretty badly and I was delirious… I tried to fly back to the fight… instead I ended up fainting from my injuries before I could jump out of the Crusade.”

“That was the battle of Fortona temple right?  You realize that I’d actually had Schezar beaten before you interrupted us.”

“You cheated.”

“There’s no cheating in war.  You’re just mad you lost the fight.”

“You lost the war.”

“Oh yeah… well, Folken cheated.”  The two teenagers dissolved into drunken snickers for a moment before Van motioned for Dilandau to move his wing closer.

“C’mon, let’s get these things clean.  Who knows what will happen if you pull them back in while they’re all gummed up like this.”

Nodding his head, the albino looked at the wing in question and gave his shoulder a twitch.  The wing flopped slightly in a half-hearted flap but accomplished little else.

“Well, that’s embarrassing… Honestly, that’s never happened to me before.”  More juvenile snickers ensued from both of them, though Van honestly had no idea what the joke actually was.  “Seriously, how do I make them move?”  He gave his shoulder another experimental roll, attempting to flex various muscles to figure out which ones controlled his wings.  The results more closely resembled a dying spastic bird rather than any conscious attempt at movement.

“It’s not so much a matter of muscle power.”  Van smiled slightly, giving his own wings a gentle flap, causing a rather powerful breeze to fill the room despite his care.  “If it was, my back would be massive and deformed.  Instead, it’s more mental.  Remember, the wings are magical in origin, it’s part of what separates us from humans.”

“So, I have to think _flap_ and they will?”  Dilandau didn’t sound at all convinced.

“It’s not quite that cut and dry.  Do you think _lift_ with your arms when you want to reach out for something?  Of course you don’t, you just do it without thinking.  The same goes for your wings.  It’s more of a subconscious control.  They do what you want without you having to put thought into it.  It’s… it’s when you try to overthink it that things mess up.”  Van added, his cheeks colouring slightly as he remembered several of his less than spectacular attempts at learning to fly.  Thankfully his mother had been on hand to catch and chastise him.

“You’ve already moved them a few times without being aware of it.”  He pointed out, tucking his own wings up behind his back. 

Dilandau still didn’t look overly convinced and gave his wings a long pointed look.

“Magic wings that read my mind… got it.”  The wings gave a somewhat awkward flutter then dropped down, the pinions dragging on the floor.  Pale brows drew together in a warning frown and the wings jerked up, partially opening before making several strange twitches.  A few loose feathers fluttered free, drifting to the floor in a small snow flurry.  “Are those supposed to fall out like that?  I don’t want bald wings.”

“It’s common.”  Van assured him, chuckling slightly at the mental image of plucked wings on Dilandau’s back.  “Most of the time, the feathers come loose when you initially release your wings.  They grow back quickly enough so don’t worry about it.  It just makes an annoying mess when you do it indoors.”

“They change my center of balance.”

“Well yeah, extra limbs do that.”

“It’s going to take a while to learn how to compensate for them.”  That statement threw the king off balance and he stared at the dragonslayer with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“W…what?”  The resulting smirk and delighted shiver to Dilandau’s wings showed that the other teen had clearly intended to achieve this result.

“These wings have some rather interesting advantages to them which far outweigh the disadvantages.”  The albino mused as his wings flexed open, displaying what would be gorgeous feathers once they were cleaned.  “Extra limbs to attack with, being able to gain a height advantage when necessary.”  Pale lips parted in a wide grin at the thought of battle.  “If what you say about them being able to sheathe and appear painlessly is true for me, then I can pull them in if they become detrimental to the situation.  Otherwise, I see little reason in hiding them away.”

                “But… but you can’t!”  Van blurted, hearing his mother’s voice over and over again, warning to never show them to others, that they must only be used when the time was right, when necessity demanded.

                “Why not?  It’s not lewd to show them and I’m not going to hide what I am.  Yeah, they’ll all bitch and whine about being a bringer of misfortune, but come on.  I’ve already burned the city down once and personally slaughtered nearly half their standing army.  What more do they think I can do to them?”  He seemed to actually ponder this for a long moment, giving the possibility far too much thought for Van’s liking.

“It’s not a contest you realize!”  The king snapped, earning himself a wide shameless grin.

“You take things far too seriously Van.  You need to live a little!  Be reckless and have some fun!  Teach me how to fly and we can buzz the palace tower!”

“I don’t even know what that means, but the answer is no.”  He did his best to keep his face in a dour expression of authority even though deep inside he had to admit that being able to fly around with someone else would be fun.  He’d never been able to do anything like that and it made him wonder what it would be like to just indulge in careless fun, matching his flying skills against those of his rival’s. 

“Ahhh, you’re interested, don’t try to deny it.”  Dilandau’s grin grew wider and his eyes sparkled with delight.  “Come on, the big bad hero king has to let his hair down once and a while.  Leave being an uptight killjoy to Schezar.  He’d good at that.” 

“Look, we just can’t.”  He protested, aware that his voice didn’t seem to be matching his resolve.  It sounded more like a whining child than a brave king.  “My mother warned me that we had to stay hidden, that we weren’t supposed to show them!”  The urge to clap his hand over his mouth was nearly overpowering.  Did he honestly just use his mother as an excuse?  Gods of Gaea, he pretty much had just thrown away every macho point he’d ever gained in his life.  Thankfully, Dilandau was a tad too drunk to latch onto such an obvious chance to insult and continued with simple cajoling.

                “Why?  Are you ashamed of what you are?”

                “Of course not!”

                “Is your mother here to reprimand you?”

                “No…”

                Dilandau grinned widely, sensing that victory was near at hand.  He leaned closer to Van, their noses nearly touching and the king could feel the warm rush of air from every breath the other teenager took.  He’d never been this close to anyone save for Merle and he most certainly had never had anyone look at him with half lidded smoldering eyes.  He could feel heat pool in his lower body as those eyes held his.  It was impossible to ignore the sizzling energy that seemed to swirl around them both, leaving the young king to forcibly remind himself that this wasn’t some helpless victim of fate, nor was it his beloved and untouchable Hitomir.  It was Dilandau Albatou; the maniac who’d burned Fanelia.   But hadn’t Van himself hurt Zaibach just as badly?  Condemning them to a slow decay as their resources were pillaged, leaving them defenseless against the coming winter?  Neither of them had the moral high ground, and both of them were so hideously alone.

                “Rebel a little King Fanel.  Enjoy the moments that you can, life is too short to worry about what other people might think.”  The tip of a pink tongue flicked out, licking whiskey off of pale lips before smirking wickedly.  Van could only swallow loudly, one part of his mind screaming in blind panic as the pale dragonslayer moved a fraction closer, their wings brushing gently against each other.  The feel of feather on feather made his entire body shiver in pleasure and the glowing warmth inside him seemed to grow.

Was Dilandau trying to seduce him?  Why?  More importantly, why wasn’t he discouraging the albino?  It’s not like he was attracted to men, especially insane homicidal ones no matter how lovely.  Ugh, he did NOT just think that Dilandau was lovely!  Bad brain!  That was it!  He was never touching whiskey again! 

                “Teach me how to fly.”  Dilandau practically purred.  “Fate’s seen fit to give me wings, so let me use them… unless you liked being the only Draconian on Gaea…those skies must get awfully lonely.”  Their wingtips brushed against each other again and Van closed his eyes, unable to block out the truth behind the others words. 

                Lonely… it sounded so simple a problem, one which could be so easily fixed, but instead it was a yawning emptiness inside him, growing wider every day.  There were too many walls built up between himself and those he called friends.  His family was gone, his race dead and his rank denied him the simple warmth of common friendship.  Kings were supposed to be alone, islands unto themselves.  Only, there were very few kings in Gaea’s history who’d been as young as Van was, as isolated.  All of his counselors were older men, seasoned warriors and politicians who saw him as nothing more than a figurehead at best and a headstrong child at worst.

His closest peers were beholden to other countries, rarely seen and unable to offer the simple companionship so many others took for granted.

Now here was Dilandau, just as alone and isolated by circumstance and notoriety.   He wasn’t offering to take away all of Van’s problems, nor was he laying any clever political groundwork to be exploited later.  All he wanted was to share a simple joy with the king, a joy no one else on Gaea was capable of partaking in.

Hitomi had suggested that Van help the damaged youth find some joy in life, some reason to want to fight for Gaea other than pure revenge.  Maybe this was something they both needed.  Or… maybe he was just drunk and looking for a reason to indulge in some particularly stupid behavior.

                “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”  He suggested, playfully nudging a bloody wing with his own.  “Then we’ll see how hard it is for you to pull them in.”  Gods of Gaea, teaching someone to fly while they were both drunk out of their skulls had to be one of the stupidest ideas of his life.  But, it was worth it to see the brilliant smile on Dilandau’s face.  It made him seem to light up from the inside out and for a moment, the mask of the Zaibach warlord fell away, leaving in its place a face of youthful innocence and promise.  It almost made Van wonder what the other teen might have been like had it not been for the lifetime of brutal abuse and torture.

                “Excellent!”  Dilandau breathed, still close enough that if he shifted even the slightest bit, their lips would brush each other’s.  He held the position for several long heart hammering seconds as Van silently counted each breath, unsure of what to do in this sort of situation.  Slowly, the dragonslayer pulled back, a heated smile teasing the blushing king before he turned to face the door and raised his voice.  “Scholar Inverness!  We need a wash basin and some cloths!”  His voice, long accustomed to shouting orders across a battlefield carried easily through the door.  The sheer volume made the king wince slightly, his wings snapping back and folded tightly against his sides.

                “Ouch, warn me next time, I think you popped an eardrum.”  He grumbled softly before rising up to stand straight.  The tension was broken and the strange spell which had held him in indecisive paralysis shattered.  His wings faded away with a thought, leaving behind a burst of shining feathers in their wake.  Reaching out, he snatched one from the air and examining it for a moment, watching how the light seemed to reflect off of each barb.  It shimmered like crystal, reflecting a whole spectrum of colour within their depths depending on the angle.

                “Here.”  He held the feather out to Dilandau, suddenly feeling like a shy five year old offering a favoured toy.  “A new beginning between us.”  His cheeks felt hot as Dilandau stared at him in shock for a long moment, his lovely face blank as crimson eyes widened.  The slayer looked at the offered feather, then up into Van’s eyes, studying him intently for some sort of trick or trap.  Instead, all he found in their depths was a painful honesty and strange sort of hope.

                “Is it possible to begin again?”  He found himself murmuring, remembering all the bad blood between them, the deaths, the rage and the hatred.  It was all so intense that it’d taken on a life of its own, becoming an integral parts of both teenagers’ identities.  Without it, what did either of them truly have?

                Still holding out the feather, Van smiled slightly, it was a gentle expression, one full of patience and infinite gentleness.  It certainly wasn’t an expression Dilandau had ever expected to see on his rivals face.

                “We’ll never know unless we try.”  The king said softly.  Unable to find the will to refuse, Dilandau gave the slightest of nods and reached up to take the feather.  It felt warm in his hand, pulsing gently in time with Van’s heartbeat.

                “Thank you Van.”  He was surprised to realize that he actually meant it.  Clearly the night had taken more out of him than he’d previously thought if he was being gracious to his worst enemy.  Still, fate worked in mysterious ways, and as Draconians, they were pretty much destinies bitches.  Some battles simply weren’t worth fighting.

                “Are you two finished killing each other in there?”  The scholar called out through the door, his voice wary but strong and both youths shared guilty looks, remembering their promises not to damage any of the equipment within the room.  A quick glance around tallied up the list of blood spattered books and furnishings, broken beakers and flasks, not to mention the smell of whiskey from where Dilandau’s glass has collided with the monitor.

                “He can’t kill both of us.”  Dilandau murmured rather unhelpfully.  Van gave an inelegant snort, not willing to bet any gidaru on that.  He’d long ago learned not to underestimate how far crazy people were willing to go when properly provoked; Dilandau being a prime case and point.

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter!!: Friends don't let friends drink and fly.
> 
> So, I'm curious, what's the consensus? Should Dilandau and Gaddes work things out and get back together? Should Dilandau and Van hook up? Should Dilandau just say screw it all and just enjoy any pretty face that comes his way with no commitments? Please let me know in the comments section!!
> 
> So yeah... we get to see what Folken was up to behind the scenes there, and no, he wasn't done with his little screw jobs against the Dragonslayers... poor kids. I sort of feel sorry for the situation he was put into but really, he brought it on himself, playing the two sides against each other as he meddled his way to his perfect future. He really was a cursed being. I debated for a while on if DIlandau would have workings wings or not, I did sort of enjoy the image of big bad Dilandau having little cherub wings but decided that this was something he and Van could actually bond a little on. Personally, I think that Van giving Dilandau a feather was pretty damn sweet.


	29. A Feather's Promise Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van and Dilandau finally find a middle ground, but is it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot!!! Final chapter!! This was a huge chapter so it's been broken into two parts. Sorry, I just didn't think anyone wanted to slug through 26 pages in one go. I've had a blast writing this story and have a ton of ideas for Book 2 which is why I'm posting this a little earlier than usual. The sooner these are up, the sooner I HAVE to get the second book started!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!  
> oh, and I still don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters.

                A loud and rather undignified squawk announced the presence of the scholar in the room.  Van couldn’t help but cringe at the sound while Dilandau’s reaction was the exact opposite.  He seemed to practically puff up and if the king didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that the Dragonslayer actually looked almost proud of the destruction he’d caused.  Really, it should have hardly been a surprise but he still couldn’t resist a groan at the expected lecture.  They’d not only damaged items in the room, they’d covered pretty much everything in whiskey and blood.  In his defense… even Pyle could have called this bet.

                “You… you have wings!!!”  The scholar blurted, proving beyond all shadow of a doubt why he was indeed a scholar.  Dilandau snickered and elbowed Van sharply in the ribs, warning him that the king had likely murmured that thought aloud in his somewhat tipsy state.  “You really have wings!!”

                “Well, the file did say that they used Draconian genes to create me.”  Dilandau offered somewhat helpfully, idly brushing Van’s feather against his cheek, enjoying its silken softness.  He didn’t even realize that it was his injured cheek he was stroking, not that anyone was going to be foolish enough to point it out.

                “But… you didn’t say you had wings before!”  The man pointed at the offending appendages, his jaw still agape in his shock.  “Wings don’t grow like that!!”

                “They uh… they do with draconians.”  Van murmured, barely loud enough to hear.  His cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment, unable to quite believe that he’d said that out loud.  It felt like he’d just whispered a dirty secret and suddenly, finding the whiskey bottle sounded like a fine and noble quest for him to indulge in.

                “I’m going to need to take measurements!”  Scholar Inverness announced, sounding far too delighted for a man who’d just walked into a room full of destroyed artifacts.  “I’ll also need a full account of what happened and how, oh! And feather samples!”

                “You are NOT plucking me bald old man!”  Came the expected snarl.  “Grab some of the feathers off the floor and use those, they might as well be put to some use other than stuffing pillows.”  As if mirroring Dilandau’s ire, his wings gave an affronted flap, sending a great gust of wind through the room, knocking a few surviving beakers off of the table.  Everyone winced slightly at the sound of shattering glass.

                “We literally can’t take you anywhere can we?”  Van was unable to bite back the snickering comment, earning himself another sharp elbow in the ribs.  Seriously, did Dilandau have armour there?  No one’s elbows should be that sharp!

                “This is all your fault you know.”

                “My fault?!  How?  You’re the one who freaked out, your wings broke everything and that’s YOUR blood on everything, NOT mine.”

                “Must you fixate on the trifling details? Ugh, you’re as bad as Folken.  _You set my lab on fire again, you broke into my quarters and hid all of my cloaks, you altered the Vione’s coordinates and sent us straight into a warzone, you had my guymelef painted powder blue.”_ Dilandau rolled his eyes dramatically and waved a hand in the air, an action as utterly unFolken-like as possible _._ “Ungrateful bastard, the guymelef matched his hair, it looked good.  Besides, it’s not like he ever flew the damn thing.  Speaking of not carrying their weight, where’s that basin of water I wanted?”  Dilandau huffed imperiously, his wings giving another affronted flap.  “I refuse to be covered in blood when Van doesn’t have a mark on him.”

                “So… like every other fight we’ve ever had.”  A wing slapped Van in the face, nearly knocking him over onto his back.

                “You’ve cut me once you overinflated pigeon.  Once.  I’ve bled you multiple times and don’t forget it.”

                “As if you’d ever let me.”  Van muttered, picking himself up off of the floor and running a hand through his hair.  “Just tell me where I can find a basin and I’ll get it myself.”  He really had no desire to sit there and watch the scholar ogle Dilandau’s wings the way he did with all of his other artifacts.  Dilandau would no doubt drink in the attention eagerly and his obvious narcissism simply turned Van’s stomach.  It was in no way jealousy. 

                It’s not as if he inwardly longed to be fawned over and have his own wings admired.  The light of delight and awe in those crimson eyes hadn’t moved him at all and he certainly didn’t need that feeling of acceptance… dammit.  All of this was so much easier to deal with when they were just trying to murder each other.

                Dilandau for his part was revelling in the attention, using it to distract himself from the hollow screaming inside his skull where the stresses from the day’s repeated traumas were steadily building.  Scholar Inverness’ constant babble and requests to measure his wingspan and examine his feathers were a balm against the memories of those gorgeous storm grey eyes staring into his, filling with rejection as hands pushed him way.    It cut like a dagger through his heart, how Gaddes had turned him away in that moment where he’d needed him the most. 

                Despite the cushion of an alcoholic haze, he found himself trembling slightly and longed for the comforting warmth of familiar arms wrapped around him, a solid body pressed against his own.  He wanted to lose himself in the scent of his lover, to hear his voice, feel his touch… the knowledge that he’d never be held again was almost crippling.  It felt as if there was a gaping hole inside of his body and his soul was tumbling through it, helpless and out of control. 

The sensation was so strong that he actually doubled over, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as he struggled to center himself.  Bastard… how dare Gaddes make those promises to him, how dare he make him hope for more than the aching loneliness which tore him apart over and over again.  How dare he believe him!

Just a thing masquerading as a person, that’s what Shroden had called him on the day he’d been given a name and “set free” to create a new destiny for Zaibach.

 

_“You may have a name, a rank, and power over these little toy soldiers.”_   _The cruel Madoushi had whispered in his ear as he stood in the lab one last time, a shining beautiful being bathed in the cruel glow of the many machines around him.  Long bony hands slid around his hips and squeezed tightly, preventing him from twisting away, not that he would have dared.  There was no tenderness in the touch, it was an action fueled by pure possession.  “But you’ll never be like them, no matter how hard you try, no matter how carefully you hide it.  You’re just a thing.  MY thing.  I made you.  Cell by cell I built you.  Your thoughts, your dreams, your memories… they’re all mine and you will never forget it my lovely little eidolon.    No matter how many people you kill or how many people you bed, you’ll only ever be whole with me.”  Shroden had smiled that dragon’s smile, all teeth and cruel intentions, as his fingertips drew tight little circles above his hip bone, marking the sensitive skin with his touch and making Dilandau shiver despite himself.  “Say it.”_

_“I’ll only ever be whole with you Master.”  He’d whispered obediently, offering no resistance as those hands pulled him backwards, the long heavy edges of the Madoushi’s cloak wrapping around him, dousing his light._

 

The memory made him shudder in disgust, his guts clenching so tightly that for a moment, he honestly wondered if he was going to throw up.  He could almost smell the cloying chemical stink of his Master’s flesh and feel the cold press of the lab table against his skin.

He tried desperately to drown out those vile words, remembering the faces of those he’d loved, those who’d defied that cruel promise of his Master. 

His beautiful sun, shining, defiant… a brilliant force of nature who could match his cruelty and shared the pain inside his soul.  – _Torn to pieces by Dilandau’s own hand, his beautiful voice screaming in agony for over an hour before finally knowing peace._

Miguel, so proud and handsome.  He’d reached out across the gulf that separated Dilandau from the rest of humanity, risking it all for a chance at something more.  – _Lost due to Dilandau’s misplaced trust, he’d died alone and in pain, his body dishonoured by the enemy._

Gaddes, who’d offered comfort and understanding.  Simple, uncomplicated, but willing to throw everything aside and stand between himself and the world in order to protect him. – _Until he learned the truth about Dilandau, then he couldn’t abandon him quickly enough, casting him aside as little more than a few nights of fleeting pleasure._

His love was a curse, always a curse… it made sense after all, there had to be something behind all of those stories about the draconians… but Van had loved hadn’t he?  He’d changed the face of the damn planet with it.  So why couldn’t Dilandau experience even a pale shadow of that?  It didn’t have to alter the fate of the world or change the destiny of a war.  He just didn’t want to be alone anymore… didn’t want to wake up screaming in terror over and over again, wondering when his pain would finally stop. 

“Shh, it will be alright.”  A thin hand reached out to touch his shoulder and he spun around without thinking.  His fingers wrapped neatly around the fine bones and twisting sharply, sending the old scholar to the floor as agony burst up along the man’s arm.  For a long moment, he stared down pitilessly at the man, ready to snap the offending wrist with a simple application of pressure.

“I don’t need your pity.”  He snarled softly into that stunned face, his eyes glittering dangerously with their strange inner light.  “Don’t you dare think that you’re above me.”

“Only a fool would offer you pity Lord Albatou.”  The scholar ground out through clenched teeth, his eyes holding that molten gaze, somehow managing to do so without even a trace of defiance.  “I heard what you’ve survived and I know what you’ve accomplished.  Your strength is to be commended; few would have survived your trials and fewer still have risen to the heights you have reached.  Believe me, pity is the last thing I would ever feel for you.”  He swallowed somewhat nervously then offered up a bold yet submissive grin.  “I don’t suppose you could stop breaking my wrist now?  I’m an old man and my bones aren’t what they used to be.”

The request seemed to snap Dilandau out of his icy cruelty and the youth’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as he quickly released the scholar, taking a step back to put some space in between them.  Relieved at the cessation of pain, Scholar Inverness rubbed his wrist gently then wriggled his fingers, making sure everything was still in working order.  The boy offered no apologies, nor was any expected as far as the old man was concerned.  Over the course of his long life, he’d seen enough soldiers who’d been damaged by their wartime ordeals.  He’d even had the honour of meeting those who’d endured extended torture at the hands of enemy nations.  Granted, never had he dealt with anyone who’d endured so much for so long.  Honestly, he was awed that the boy was still functional in society.  By all rights, he should be a raving madman.  Still, the scholar knew that he shouldn’t have presumed to touch him without permission, especially after the specifics behind said abuse.  It was a small miracle that he’d escaped with little more than a sore wrist. 

Knowing that he would have to be the one to make the first move to balance things between them once more, the old man studied the youth for a moment from beneath his bushy brows.  It was hard not to notice how those slender fingers continued to tightly hold a long shining white feather as if it were some sort of lifeline.  Considering that there was a plethora of nearly identical feathers scattered around the room, it seemed to imply that this one meant something and the old man smiled slightly to himself as an idea formed.

Giving the teenager a slight nod, he respectfully stepped back a few steps before turning away to rummage through one of the shelves by the far wall which had thankfully avoided the worst of the blood spray.  It took only a moment or two before he located his prize, and with a happy chortle, he held it aloft for the boy to see.

Crimson eyes narrowed slightly in confusion as a simple golden chain was held up and the old man couldn’t quite resist a warm chuckle.

“That’s a beautiful feather.”  He stated simply.  “It should be displayed properly don’t you think?”  Dilandau glanced down at the feather in his hand, then at the necklace, quickly making the implied connection between the two and judging by the way his face lit up, the scholar had made the right choice.

Without hesitation, Dilandau stepped forward and held out the feather, still carrying it carefully between his fingers.

“Place it on the table, we’ll drill a small hole through the shaft and run the chain through it.  I also have some metal scraps we can use to reinforce it so the shaft doesn’t split.”

“Thank you Scholar.”  Dilandau replied gently, sounding honestly pleased by this gesture and he patiently watched as the old man deftly bored a hole then slid the chain neatly through.  He used gold wire to strengthen the area around the hole and held it up for inspection, marvelling at how soft and yet durable the feather was.  There was no way anyone could mistake the feather for belonging to a simple bird.  It practically glowed in the light of the room, lit by its own inner light.

The entire affair had only taken a few short minutes to finish, but the end result was rather elegant in its simplicity and the scholar couldn’t help but feel a warm flush of pride.  That pride grew as he watched the boy slip the necklace around his neck and close the clasp then look down, admiring how the feather rested against his chest.  Slender fingers, as pale as the feather itself gently stroked its length and Dilandau smiled faintly to himself, only to suddenly straighten up, his hand falling to his side as Van stepped back into the room.  The king’s arms were overloaded with basin, water jug and cloths, so much so that he practically wobbled with every step.

                “It’s ok, I’ve got this, don’t anyone bother to get up and help me…”  Van’s sarcasm was clearly noted and Scholar Inverness quickly hurried over, eager to help while Dilandau simply stood there, brushing a finger through his feathers, idly smudging drying blood across them.        

                As the items were carefully placed on the now conveniently cleared table, Van took a moment to shoot Dilandau a dark look.

                “The least you could have done was help carry some of this, it’s for you after all.”

                “And cheapen your shining moment?”  Dilandau gasped loudly with fake melodrama, his wings stretching out behind him for a moment before closing once again.  “I wouldn’t dream of it.  Besides, I know how much you enjoy being all helpful and what not.”  He glanced at the pitcher of water and frowned slightly.  “I don’t suppose the water is warm is it?”  The idea of cold water on his apparently sensitive wings wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

                “Be glad I didn’t get it out of the fountain in the courtyard _Your Highness_.”  Van allowed himself a slight grin as he poured the water into the basin and then promptly soaked a towel with it.  “Now get over here so we can get you cleaned up.  If you leave your feathers covered in blood, you’re going to attract flies.”   That seemed to work well.  Dilandau blanched slightly at this mental image and hurried over to Van, grabbing a damp towel of his own.

                While the two teenagers set to work cleaning the wings, Scholar Inverness chose to stay back, opting instead to pull out a scroll and begin sketching the wing shape and jotting down various notes.  It wasn’t every day one was given the opportunity to study a Draconian after all.

                True to Van’s promise, the blood practically slid from the feathers, revealing the gleaming white wings beneath.  They seemed to glow with a light of their own and Dilandau couldn’t quite keep a grin of delight from his face as he admired their beauty.  Sure, they might mark him as a non-human, a creature of darkest horror, but at least he was a gorgeous one.  That was something he found that he could live comfortably with.

                Despite the chill of the water, he found himself leaning into the gentle brushing of the cloth, loving the sensation of the towel sliding across his wings.  Still, even that didn’t hold a candle to the delicious pleasure of Van’s strong fingers carefully working at the feathers, ensuring that each one was clean and the barbs straightened out.   The king’s touch was surprisingly gentle as he carefully stroked along his pinions, sending delicious tingles along the length of his wings.  Within moment, he was practically purring at the touch, his own towel growing still as his eyes half closed, simply drinking in the wonderful massage.

                “You’re not helping…”  Van murmured, pausing in his ministrations to glance at the happy dragonslayer who simply grunted softly in affirmation before giving the neglected wing a slight shake.

“Less talk, more washing.”  The king allowed himself a faint smile, noting that the fierce and fiery captain seemed to be an utter sucker for gentle touches.  It was a complete contrast to how he’d been just hours ago, swearing, snarling and swinging his sword around, ready to destroy the world and himself along with it.

It was then that the king noticed the feather hanging on the chain around Dilandau’s neck and he smiled, deeply touched by the honour being given to his gift.  It had been a simple enough gesture but clearly it had meant more than that to the captain.  Again, his ministrations faltered and Dilandau cracked open an eyelid, noting the king’s gaze on his newest piece of jewellery. 

“Nice necklace.”  He noted as Dilandau reached up and gently stroked the feather once more.

“This old thing?  It’s just something I picked up.”  The albino drawled playfully.  “Besides, how many people can say they have a draconian feather necklace?”  His smile grew into a wide grin and he chuckled softly.  “There was mention  earlier of wanting to adorn my guymelef with draconian wings… I figure this is a decent compromise.”

“Definitely less grizzly and yes, very unique.”  Van agreed, rinsing out his cloth and reaching for a dry towel to rub against the now somewhat sodden wings.

“It doesn’t have to be that unique…”  Dilandau murmured softly, pulling his left wing around, he took hold of a feather.  Before Van could open his mouth to stop him, the dragonslayer gave a sharp yank, tugging the feather free of the wing. 

“MOTHERFUCKER!!”  The albino cried out loudly, startling the scholar, causing him to draw a thick black line across his notations.  “Sweet fate that hurt!”  Reaching over, he quickly rubbed at the stinging wound, shifting feathers aside to check and see if he was bleeding.  “Why did that hurt?  You didn’t get hurt when you shed all those damn feathers.  It looks like a damn chicken coop exploded in here and I didn’t see you as much as twitch!”  It was hard to tell if Dilandau was more upset over the sudden pain, or the fact that his rival had apparently handled it better than himself.

This time, Van couldn’t restrain himself from laughing at the offended glare he received. 

“Those feathers were loose and ready to fall out.  The one you pulled was healthy and still deeply attached to your wings.  It’s rather like pulling out your fingernails, so I wouldn’t recommend doing it too often.”

“Yeah… no kidding.”  Dilandau grinned ruefully, still rubbing his sore wing with one hand as he extended the feather with the other.  “So yeah… here.  As an added bonus, you get to know that it hurt like hell for me to pull it.”

“I’ll cherish it forever.”  Van gently took the feather from Dilandau’s fingers and pressed it to his chest.  “And I’ll particularly cherish the look on your face when you pulled it… especially when you’re being an ass.”

“Oh good.”  At least the albino didn’t seem at all offended by this.  “So it will be a treasure beyond measure at that rate.”

In no time at all, Van was also sporting an identical draconian feather necklace while Dilandau looked as proud as can be, pleased that his gift was well received.  The young king would never have believed that such a thing was possible, the two mortal enemies each openly wearing a symbol of unity with each other.  Not even Hitomi had kept any of Van’s feathers, at last not that he knew of.  It felt… good to know that he wasn’t alone, that he was accepted for who and what he was.  The fact that it was his most implacable enemy who was doing so only made it that much sweeter.

“See if you can pull your wings in and if it works, we’ll go up to the roof.”  He found himself saying.  All common sense said that they should wait and go slow.  Maybe practice flapping or even just get used to the change in his center of gravity before throwing themselves off the top of the castle… but alcohol mixing with teenage enthusiasm made for a dangerous combination and neither youth wanted to wait. 

At his words, Dilandau perked up visibly and nodded his head, eager to feel the wind pulling at him as he tested out his newest additions.

“So, how do I do that?”  It was a sensible question, it was also something Van had never really stopped to think about.  He just always chose for them to go away, and they did.  Of course, stating that wouldn’t earn him much more than a snide comment and a sneer so he took a moment to try to describe the indescribable.

“Focus on your wings.”  He said after a long moment of thought.  “Picture the wind blowing across the feathers, surrounding each of them one by one.”  Dilandau gave him an odd look, clearly skeptical of where the king was going with this.  Surprisingly, he gave a soft sigh, shrugged and then closed his eyes.  A second, deeper breath was slowly exhaled and Van could actually feel a shift in the energy around them as the dragonslayer centered himself.

“Once you feel the wind, picture it blowing your feathers away one by one.  It doesn’t hurt, not like a pulled feather.  Instead, it’s more like they’re turning into mist, dissolving away gently into the air with nothing more than a cool rush passing through you.”  Hopefully it was the same for the albino as it was for him.  This wasn’t exactly something that had ever been explained to him, at least not as far as he remembered.  He’d always had his wings, and they’d always come and gone at will. 

It was moments like this that truly exposed his own ignorance of his draconian heritage.  For such a great and ancient people, all he really knew about them was that they were a winged race from Atlantis who’d created Gaea and in a fatal act of ultimate hubris; they’d destroyed themselves attempting to twist fate to their own desires. 

Their powers, knowledge, abilities, and history… all of it was a mystery to him.  He hadn’t even realized what it meant when your wings turned black… at least not until Folken had told him.  It was frustrating to know that he was supposed to be the expert on his people and that Dilandau would likely be counting on him to be some fount of knowledge, but in the end, he didn’t really know any more than the dragonslayer. 

At least Dilandau proved to be a fast learner and even as Van watched, those great and beautiful wings seemed to fall apart, the feathers falling free and dissolving into the air around them.  A few stragglers of course survived, they always did, and between the two of them, the once pristine floor was now covered in a soft carpeting of white.

Well, at least the scholar would be happy to have so many specimens to study.  Maybe it would make up for the damage they’d caused.

Dilandau glanced at his shoulders as he felt the weight fall away and he grinned like an excited child as he readjusted his balance.

“That didn’t hurt at all!”  The honest surprise in his voice was almost depressing to Van, though hardly shocking given Dilandau’s history.  “Let’s get up to the roof!  I want to fly before the sun comes up!”  Reaching out with unthinking eagerness, he grabbed onto Van’s hand and gave him an excited tug towards the door.  It likely didn’t even occur to him to offer to help clean up the mess he’d caused but Van couldn’t find it within himself to chastise the other youth.  He was also caught up in the prospect of flying with someone at his side.  It was thrilling in and of itself and he couldn’t wait!

As if sensing their eagerness and knowing that he’d be fighting a losing battle trying to hold them back, the old scholar chuckled softly and waved his hand.

“You boys go and fly.  I’ll get one of the servants to tidy up in here.  You don’t mind if I keep a few feathers for study do you?”

“Use them to stuff a mattress for all I care.”  Dilandau blurted out, still tugging at Van’s hand.  “I’ll make more I’m sure.  Come ON Van.  Let’s go!”  The king couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever been that eager to fly.  Likely yes.  It had always been a secret little thrill of his, a naughty secret that he’d always wanted to indulge in, but had never really been brave enough to throw his mother’s words of caution to the wind.  For the first time in memory, her voice was muted, as were the fears of discovery she’d long ago instilled in him. 

At long last, he was going to fly just for the fun of it!  A wide smile spread across his face and he laughed despite himself, following the albino’s long legged stride as they both raced up the stairs and out the door, surprising the dozing guard who’s sleep fogged mind didn’t quite register the fact that two teenagers had exited, but only one had entered.

They couldn’t reach the roof fast enough as far as Van was concerned and his wings itched beneath his skin, eager to be released once more.  It wasn’t just his wings either.  His entire being yearned for the freedom being promised.  After all, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d just done something for fun.

 

******

 

“Stupid insane teenagers.”  Palos muttered to himself as he stalked through the hallways, his pale grey eyes darting left and right as he sought to locate the missing teen in question.  “I should be asleep like any other normal person at this hour, not looking for a monster in the darkness.” 

He’d been on his way back to his rooms, ready to drink away the horrible revelations of the night when Gaddes had found him.  The man had been frantic with fear, babbling about Dilandau running loose in the castle.  It was pretty much a nightmare come true for the messenger who immediately pictured the guards sounding the alarm and the Royal Family being found slaughtered in their beds with a madman poised over them drenched in blood and flames.  Of course Dilandau would want revenge.  He’d seen how the little beast had reacted yesterday to the King’s proclamations.  Naming him a Schezar, calling him a traitor to that country of war mongering demons…   Then the things they’d learned tonight, it tugged at the young noble’s heart even as it sickened him to his very stomach.  He’d known that Zaibach was evil, that much was obvious to even a fool, but to perform such experiments and do such vile acts in the name of science?  It was beyond the pale.

A shudder ran through the man’s body as he remembered hearing Dilandau screaming, his voice breaking into two distinct identities as he struggled to drive the sword into his chest.  The way those inhuman eyes had changed from demon red to astorian blue… He’d already been told about the two children sharing one body, one sweet, good, and pure while the other was evil made flesh.  Still, knowing and understanding… seeing it demonstrated right before his eyes was harrowing in the extreme. 

He’d met Lord Folken on occasion at court, even run a message or two for him.  To look back on his memories of the man and learn that he’d been involved with those who’d created such an abomination was horrifying.  Then to find out that the man was an actual demon… that King Fanel was a demon… 

The boy king certainly didn’t look or act the part.  He was kind and generous, the sort of goodness one would expect from a king.  Of course, there were those instances where he’d seen something dark moving behind those eyes and been reminded that this was the man who’d stood against the Crimson Demon and survived… repeatedly.  Now he knew why King Fanel didn’t fear the demon.  He was one himself.  It was in his blood… both their blood.  Sweet Jeture, what had he brought to Palas?  They were all in danger!

Nervously, his hand slipped into his pocket once more, grasping the cool gem hidden within its depths, drawing strength as he always did. 

He could fix this.  There had to be a way.  Jeture would see them through this and Astoria would rise up stronger than before!  But how?  Their army was now under the control of the very monster who’d burned the city to ash while one of their closest allies was a demon.  What was worse, the Heir seemed to back both of them!  Did he know?  Of course Lord Fassa knew, he knew everything… so then why would he allow such a travesty to take place? 

Palos had never been the cleverest of men.  It was something he was rather loathe to admit, especially to himself, but recent events seemed rather determined to point out just how singularly out of his depth he really was.  His every instinct screamed at him to find the nearest guard and sound the alarm, waking the palace to the danger lurking within.  Dilandau would be captured and thrown into the dungeon where he belonged, King Fanel would be ordered to return to his home country… and Lady Kanzaki’s warnings would go unheeded, then Astoria… no, all of Gaea would fall.  Jeture!  This wasn’t fair!

The gem was cold and firm in his hands, wonderfully solid.  It anchored him, gave him something to focus on as he took a moment to lean against the wall and stare out into the garden.  He had to have faith.  They would find a way.  Jeture would protect Astoria even if the great serpent had to rise from the depths once more.  So long as their wishes and hearts were pure, they would be protected, that’s what the legends said.  Jeture would protect them, the great dragon would provide.

Any further musings were cut short by three tall cloaked figures suddenly surrounding him.  In his introspection, he hadn’t even heard them approach. 

For a moment, Palos though that he was standing in front of the dreaded Zaibach sorcerers he’d so recently been hearing about and nearly fainted from sheer terror.  He wasn’t ready to die!  He didn’t want to be hooked up to terrifying and infernal machines that would rip out his soul and twist his body!  This couldn’t be how it ended for him!!

“Come with us young lord Varinth.”  One of the cloaked figures spoke, his accent was pure aristocratic Astorian.  The familiar tones cut through the growing fog of fear in the messengers mind just enough for his eyes to then register that while their faces were hidden within the depths of their cloaks, said garments were of high Astorian fashion as were the bunched lace at their throats.  These were his countrymen, fellow nobles!  He wasn’t in danger at all!

Relief nearly caused his knees to buckle, but he quickly regained his strength of spirit and held his hand high even as he discreetly tucked the purple stone back into his pocket.

“I do not believe that I’m at your beck and call my Lord….”  He let his voice trail off, hinting for the need for introduction.  Rather than having social propriety met, the three newcomers simply replied with cold soft chuckles.

“Having dared to bring that beast to the heart of our kingdom, your loyalty to your country and family are already in doubt.”  The second cloaked figure murmured and Palos felt a chill run down his spine as he recognized the voice of Ulos, one of his elder brothers.

“At least I’m not skulking about the palace late at night like some brigand Ulos.”  Palos shot back aware that he was the only one out of the four of them who had any reason to be in this wing of the palace.     “What are you doing here?  The guards could come around at any moment and Father will not be pleased to hear about you causing problems.”  Not to mention that neither of the teenage demons in residence would appreciate having their students poking around in their territory, especially at such a sensitive time.

“I’m not the one kissing the arse of some little albino traitor.”  His brother hissed through his teeth, sounding rather righteously enraged.  The man even went so far as to take a menacing step forward, attempting to push Palos back into a corner.

“Enough both of you.”  The third cloaked figure cut in, his voice soft and level though bearing a level of unconscious authority that made the two siblings grow immediately silent.  “We merely require a moment of your time in a less public forum.”  The words were genteel and the voice astorian, but something about it made Palos’ skin crawl.  The accent wasn’t as flowing as his attuned ear was used to and he was sure that this mysterious stranger was no countryman of his. 

Whoever this was, he didn’t want to be alone with this cloaked spy and he was rather sure that his surly brother and his compatriot wouldn’t offer any protection at all.  Still, there was something about the man that compelled him to obey despite not knowing his identity and before he realized it, Palos was leading them towards an unoccupied meeting room.

With every step, he felt his shoulders lifting until he knew that he was hunched over like some overworked peasant.  Struggling to stand straight, he sent a private wish to Jeture to help him escape this meeting with his life intact.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who you are.”  Palos attempted to assert some form of authority no matter how miniscule.  Personally, he was rather impressed with how brave he sounded with the question.  His voice was strong and steady as he stepped into the room and quickly glanced around, noting the room’s emptiness and general isolation from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle.  This was such a bad idea… he should be running for the guards, screaming for help or really anything infinitely more useful than entering into a room with three possibly dangerous individuals.

At the sound of the door closing behind them, his adrenaline began to surge, convinced that this might actually be his time to prove himself to the world.  Mentally he went over the weapons he had on his person and realized that they were nothing more than his sword and a utility dagger.  If he was attacked now, even if he screamed, the guards wouldn’t get to him in time and this was further demonstrated by the soft click of the lock being engaged on the door.  The messenger swallowed quietly and turned around to face his possible assassins, wishing to die bravely at the very least.  Cowardly pant wetting messenger indeed!  He’d show the others that no one messed with Palos of House Varinth!

“You know who I am, that’s enough.”  Ulos growled irritably even though he made no move to pull back the heavy hood of his cloak.  Jeture, the three men had to be roasting under those cloaks.  While Palos could fully understand the need for theatrics, there was a certain level of pragmatism that should be observed at the very least!

“Then at least tell me what you want before you kill me.”  He’d obviously been spending too much time around King Fanel and Dilandau if he was being this blunt and dramatic.  For all he knew, their plan was to simply murder him and blame the little demon… actually, that was a rather sound plan now that he thought about it.  Not many would bother to question it.

“Kill you?”  The leader chuckled in amusement, cocking his hooded head to the side like a curious dog.  “We’re on the same side young Lord Varinth.”  As he spoke, he pulled a polished purple stone from the folds of his cloak and held it up for Palos to see.  Though it was somewhat smaller than his own, there was no mistaking that it was the same smooth crystalline stone as his protective token.  “Our mutual friends send their regards.” 

The messenger’s blood ran cold at seeing it and he couldn’t quite stop the reflexive action of reaching for his own precious stone though he did refrain from pulling it out.

“They are most pleased that you’ve ingratiated yourself so closely with the demon.”  The man continued smoothly, ignoring Palos’ obvious distress.  “Though they are most intrigued as to how the creature escaped their previous attempts.  I was told…”  He chuckled softly as if what he was about to say was a silly impossibility.  “I was told that it escaped via a pillar of light?  Similar to the ones seen being used by the Lady Kanzaki during the war?”

Shocked by how quickly the situation had changed, Palos could only nod his head dumbly.  His skin crawled as he could practically feel the wide grin on the man’s shadowed face.

“Most surprising.”  He mused almost to himself, though Palos was rather sure that it was entirely for his benefit.  This didn’t seem like a person who said or did anything without careful deliberation.  “That does alter the plan somewhat as we cannot risk a second escape.  It was most fortuitous that the target arrive here of all places, another occurrence may not play so heavily into our favour.”

“We can capture the wretch easily enough.  There’s more than enough knights willing to attack the little traitor while he prances about his training classes.  Give the word and we’ll have him beaten and bound.”  Ulos huffed, jutting out his chest as he spoke, conveniently forgetting the level of prowess the captain had shown with his blade.

“And will you be among those crossing swords with him brother?”  Palos smirked challengingly, feeling a momentary flash of pride at the skill of his charge, no matter how loathsome the demon might be.  “Do let me know in advance so I can prepare the proper condolences to Father.”

“He’s one scrawny boy, if you can even call the little ponce that.”

“That scrawny boy cut his way through two squads of soldiers and melef units.  He also stood his ground against a guymelef.”  The messenger pointed out with a smile, enjoying the way his brother rocked back on his heels before sputtering out denials of this.  “I saw it with my own eyes.  I also saw that he escaped the battle with little more than a few scratches.”  He added, deciding that exaggeration was better than pointing out that the monster had been in a coma for the better part of a day.  It would be difficult to explain why he hadn’t dispatched the beast when he’d had such a perfect opportunity.

Oddly, the leader of the group didn’t seem the least bit surprised by this little revelation, in fact, he seemed almost as if he’d been expecting to hear that.  Clearly this wasn’t news to one of them and that made Palos even more nervous. 

“You are quite correct young Lord Varinth.”  He murmured softly, the hooded head dipping slightly in respect.  “Lord Schezar will not be easily taken by force, but there are other options when seeking to subdue such a beast.”  A black gloved hand reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled forth a bottle of vino.  A quick glance showed that it was a fine vintage from Egzardia.  “It would be better to subdue the beast peacefully.”

The bottle was held out to Palos who eyed it warily but didn’t raise his hands.

“Is it poison?”  He found himself asking, suddenly feeling a deep stab of guilt towards what he was doing.  Yes… the kid was a demon and monster who’d committed horrible unspeakable crimes, but as he’d said repeatedly, that was been during the war.  Since Palos had seen him, he’d actually behaved somewhat nobly.  Yes, he had a hideous temper and was obviously more than half mad, but he’d seen the pictures of those tortured children, he’d heard their stories as well as Dilandau’s.  Worse, he’d seen the torment in those alien eyes.  Dilandau had never done anything to him personally… did he have any right to abuse that trust and use it to murder him?

“Fine time to become a coward brother.”  Ulos sneered and Palos found his eyes narrowing as he glared at his older sibling.

“I’m not an idiot Ulos.”  He spat softly.  “If I give the little demon a glass full of poison and he drops down dead then it will be my head leaving its shoulders before the sun sets, not yours.  I want the foul beast gone just as much as the next astorian, but not at the cost of my own life and honour.”

                “Then your honour will rest well knowing that there is no fatal poison here.  The drink will simply put Lord Schezar into a deep slumber.  He will come to no harm unless you choose to take physical action upon him… an act I would greatly discourage.”  The leader cautioned, leaning forward slightly and holding the bottle out once again. 

                “But… the Lady Kanzaki’s Vision.”  Palos found himself murmuring softly, staring at the bottle and the damnation he knew it held.  “Astoria needs him to train pilots, we need him to fight.”

                “There are other warriors willing to train soldiers, ones without so much brave Astorian blood on their hands.  Soldiers worthy of trust rather than traitors to every country they’ve called their own.  King Aston can find another.  Besides, we have King Fanel and Allen Schezar.  They won the last war, this new one will be no different.”

                Except it will be different.  Palos knew this in his heart and it was reinforced every time he saw the two would be enemies together.  Dilandau and King Fanel had been ready to tear Gaea itself apart in their battles, but now they were working closely together, even going so far as to save each other’s lives.  If that wasn’t a sign from the very gods themselves, then what was?

                “Young Lord Varinth,”  The leader’s voice was soft yet the steel still resided beneath.  “This will happen regardless of your choices.  We are simply seeking the path of least violence for none of us wish for Astorian blood to be shed once more.  He may boast an Astorian name, but he is still Dilandau Albatou, Zaibach’s prize butcher, a murderer hundreds of times over.  He’s killed women and children in their beds, burned them alive and laughed as they screamed for mercy.  He’s slaughtered countless brave knights and nearly brought the allied army to ruin when he reduced Rampant Port to ash.  We both know that it’s merely a matter of time before he kills again.  You know this.  I know this.  Do you truly wish future innocent blood on your hands?  Can you sit back contentedly while the ghosts of slaughtered children wail in your ears?”

                He remembered the fires, the heat and the stink of burning flesh as he’d raced through the streets on that hellish night.  The heavy sounds of battling guymelef footfalls driving holes into the cobblestones of the streets boomed loudly in the ears of memory, muted only by the screams of the innocents. 

                Yes, Dilandau had been through indescribable hell, but that gave him no right to drag so many others down with him into nightmare.  He had to pay, he had to face justice and it was growing abundantly clear that no one who dealt with the demon was willing to stand up for the fallen.  None were willing to take steps to prevent another slaughter, another city burning in the night.

                Wordlessly, he held his hand out for the bottle.  His mind told him that he was doing the right thing, that he was protecting not only his beloved country, but the lives of every other living being on Gaea.  His heart however… it simply whispered one word over and over again.  _Traitor_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsk tsk tsk.... people are just making bad decisions left right and center aren't they? Bad bad Palos... of course, will our little coward actually got through with it? Will Van and Dilandau have another argument and just quietly murder each other in a drunken brawl, negating Palos' ethical dilemma? Will Gaddes realize how badly he screwed up in time to fix things and save the day? Will Allen ever get back to Palas?
> 
> Next Chapter: The grand finale!


	30. A Feather's Promise Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A culmination of bad decisions, good intentions and a stolen flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters. I just make their lives hell for my own amusement.  
> Special thanks to everyone who made it this far through this story and tons of thanks to those who commented and gave suggestions. Kudos beyond words to Ivorybyrd for the inspiration to get my ass back into fanfic writing (even if she didn't know she was doing it at the time) and for putting up with me pestering her with endless snippets.  
> I absolutely loved writing this and plan to continue the story. Book 2 will have tons of action, intrigue, horror and someone mentioned something somewhere about another war popping up...

“The first time I was ever on a floating fortress, I stood up on top of the hangar roof and tried to touch the sun.” Dilandau smiled slightly as he reached out with a hand towards the shining twin moons up above. “I couldn’t imagine how high it was. We were already up at maximum altitude. It was freezing cold, there was barely any air and the wind was so strong that I had to attach a rope from my belt to the rail.”

Van chuckled slightly, easily picturing a younger Dilandau ignoring the danger of falling for the chance to reach the untouchable.

“I felt that if I just stretched a little further, I’d be able to reach it.” Slender pale fingers closed gently, trying to capture the moons in his fists. “I never could, not even in my Alseides, the thrust would give out once the air got too thin.” He glanced over at Van, mischief sparking in the depths of his eyes. “Let’s see if I can touch the moon now.”

“Not even we can fly that high.” The king began, staring up at the huge blue and white sphere hanging overhead in the heavens.

“Have you ever tried?” There was a tone of playful challenge in the question and Van flexed his wings slightly, enjoying the feel of the wind playing across his feathers. Aside from that panicked flight through the forest the other day, it had been colours since he’d really flown and he missed it desperately. The last time he’d soared just for the sheer pleasure of it? It was too long ago to even remember.

“Once… when I was very young, I tried to fly up to touch the stars.” Van smiled warmly at the memory. “I’d wanted to catch some and give them to my mother as a gift. It didn’t work…” He didn’t bother mentioning that the instant he’d flown above the lights of the palace, he’d panicked at the sudden oppressive feel of the darkness closing in. Terrified of losing his way, he’d frozen, his wings locking up, causing him to fall from the sky. Luckily Folken had heard his terrified cry and caught him before he’d hit the ground but it had been a close call. While his older brother had never told their parents of his foolishness, it had been colours before he got over his sudden fear of the dark.

“Maybe it will work this time.” The albino grinned at him, his wings flaring out and the pale feathers glowed beautifully in the starlight.

“You can’t reach the stars Dilandau.”

“You’ll never know unless you try.” And with that, Dilandau leaped off the roof into the darkness of the night. For a moment, Van could only gape at the empty void next to him before his mind supplied him with a plethora of images of a bloody mangled and flattened corpse lying broken on the flagstones far below. He’d already lost one brother to a fatal plunge, he wasn’t going to lose another!

“Gods of Gaea, you idiot!” He yelled, eyes desperately searching for those shining wings. “You don’t even know how to fly yet!” There! He saw the irregular flashes of shining white in the darkness as Dilandau struggled to get his wings moving properly. While he wasn’t plummeting to the ground yet… it was only a matter of time. Swearing softly to himself, Van leaped off of the roof and dove towards the struggling Dragonslayer, trying to angle himself so that their wings wouldn’t strike each other. It was far easier said than done, especially with the erratic movements of the other youth.

“Give me your hand!” He yelled, reaching out to try to grab onto anything that wasn’t a wing.

“Do I look like I need your help?!”

“Yes!”

“Well I don’t, I’ve got this!”

“You’re about to hit the north tower you idiot!” What followed next was a rather impressive display of foul language and agility as Dilandau twisted wildly, managing to actually flip himself around in mid-air so that his feet hit the wall of the tower first. For a moment, Van was utterly convinced that he was going to have to scrape the other teen off of the side of the building like a bug on a window, but the Dragonslayer then sprang away with a wild laugh, launching himself once again into the air.

All Van could do was gape as he watched the dizzying display of acrobatics while Dilandau righted himself, his wings giving several powerful flaps as he gained altitude.

“This is just like flying an Alseides!” The pale teen announced loudly, his voice filled with delight, leaving the king to gape at him blankly, unable to do anything more than hover in place.

“It’s nothing like flying a guymelef!” He countered hotly, giving his head a little shake. “You’re using wings, not levistones and energist!”

“You think too much!” Dilandau yelled back, rising higher into the air and glancing over his shoulder. Between the alcohol in his system and the feeling of the wind pressing against his feathers, he was almost delirious with sensation and it pushed him to continue his actions, wanting to go higher and faster than before.

He hadn’t been lying about the similarities between winged flight and being in his guymelef. After flying for as long and intensely as he had, every movement was second nature to him and he could manoeuvre his guymelef as easily as he could walk. It didn’t require any actual thought on his part and he let that path of thinking guide his wings. Up, down, left, right… they seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go and he spun playfully around another tower, seeing how close he could get to the cold hard stones. Behind him, he could hear Van’s wings frantically beating the air, trying to catch up to him and he grinned widely. If the king wanted to chase him, he’d make the little runt work for it.

With another wild and childish laugh, Dilandau dove to the side sharply, snatching one of the royal flags from its moorings and holding his prize aloft.

“Mine!” He announced loudly, waving it about as he spun in place for a moment before diving, sacrificing altitude for speed. “Try to get it back if you dare!” It had been years since he’d played capture the flag, and never on a course such as this. The familiar thrill of competition surged through his blood as he heard the king curse loudly and dive after him.

“That’s not yours you vandal! That’s royal property! You could get thrown in the dungeon for defacing the castle!”

“They’d have to catch me first!” Dilandau laughed over his shoulder, giving the flag another teasing wave then twisting sharply to the side as Van’s dive nearly brought him close enough to snatch at the billowing cloth.

“You’re going to get us BOTH arrested!”

“Then you might as well have fun with your felony! If you’re going to take the punishment then you should take the time to enjoy the crime!” Dilandau spiralled through the air, pulling his wings tight against his body for a moment, diving sharply then snapping them open and narrowly missing the rather solid wall of the north side of the castle by a feather’s width. “Maybe I’ll have this made into a cunning cloak! What do you think Van? Blue and white do look good on me after all though I’d prefer red… hey! Maybe I could dye this!” He held out the flag, letting it unfurl beneath him, the ends flapping wildly in the wind as Van snatched at it again.

“You are NOT going to dye one of the royal flags!” He was doing his best to try to sound stern but there was a growing edge of laughter to his voice. True, he had no idea if the other teenager was being serious or not about the flags fate, but he was certainly enjoying the game of catch. This was the first time in his life that he’d ever actually played with anyone in the air and he found the sensation amazingly liberating. It felt so wonderful to not only stretch his wings, but to experiment with his aerial skills, indulging in barrel rolls and playful spirals just for the sheer thrill of it.

It didn’t take him long to realize that while he might be the faster of the two and by far the more experienced, Dilandau was much more manoeuvrable. Ignorance was a strength in this circumstance. Since he didn’t know or really care about the limitations of his body, he happily pushed himself beyond what any sane draconian would ever consider doing. Van nearly panicked several times as his quarry came less than a hairs breadth of crashing into the castle with his antics. Gods of Gaea, Dilandau failed to kill him during the war and was now apparently dead set on doing him in with heart failure!

Another near miss had Van swearing under his breath, his blood pumping wildly at the challenge being presented by his rival. No way was he going to be shown up by the ego-maniacal dragonslayer on the guys first time flying! He was representing the honour of the Fanelian royal family dammit! The real royals! Not some cheap science experiment knock off!

Dilandau had caught him off guard so far, taking advantage of Van’s overconfidence with his experience. It had caused the king to vastly underestimate the other teenager. Well, that wasn’t going to happen again! Manoeuvring himself so that he was just behind Dilandau, he took advantage of the other boy’s slipstream to suddenly gain ground while also handily moving into his blind spot. It was impossible to keep a grin off of his face as he noticed the tip of Dilandau’s left wing dip slightly, the feathers flaring minutely, creating just enough drag to spin the dragonslayer sharply.

Unaware of how he’d telegraphed his intentions, Dilandau ended up moving right into Van’s sudden lunge and the king snatched the flag neatly, giving his wings an insolent little flick as he spun out of reach. Rising up in a tight spiral, he laughed happily at the sound of the others loud cursing and quickly raced around several towers, hoping to spoil the inevitable pursuit.

The two chased each other for nearly an hour, the flag exchanging hands several times as they teased each other with each victory. Each sortie became bolder and riskier as the two pushed each other to their limits, heedless of the danger around them. Adrenaline and alcohol were a dangerous combination when flying at it was only through pure luck that neither of them collided with the castle, each other or inevitably, the ground.

In his craziest dreams, Van had never thought that he’d ever get to experience anything like this wild and reckless abandon. He’d always had to be so controlled and responsible, minding every word and action as it was a reflection on his kingdom and crown. But Dilandau didn’t care about any of that. Hells, he’d BURNED the damn kingdom to the ground. This was pure rivalry at its best, two youths challenging each other over something they both loved dearly and enjoying every moment of it. Honestly, Van wished that this night would never end.

When exhaustion finally drove them both to ground, both teenagers found themselves laying spreadeagled on the rooftop, once again staring up at the stars, each of them trying to regain their breath without being too obvious about it. The now somewhat battered flag rested between them, a little worse for wear.

“We need to do this again.” Dilandau stated, still slightly breathless from his adventure. His wings lay flat on either side of him, too tired to do much more than twitch whenever he tried to get them to rest in a more dignified position. Van’s wings naturally fared much better, having been used a time or two in the past, though even he was feeling a rather distinct ache across his shoulders and back. While the mighty appendages might not be controlled by his muscles in the traditional sense, they were still attached, and woefully unused to so much physical activity. He was horribly out of flying shape and doing his best not to show it. It was with no small amount of pride that he held his almost numb wings in a magnificent arch above his back and let the moonlight play over the shining feathers. Heh, score one for him!

“Next time we’ll make sure we’re both sober. I’m honestly surprised neither of us got hurt tonight. Drinking and flying wasn’t one of our smartest decisions.” He murmured, his fingertips idly toying with the crisp fabric of the flag.

“Likely not, but it was utterly worth it.” A pale hand reached out and playfully tweaked one of his pinions, making the wing twitch away quickly before trying to slap at the offending fingers. “I wonder how many guards we traumatized tonight?” Dilandau continued, the edge of a chuckle colouring his voice. “Someone had to have heard us. Think we’ll hear stories of ghosts or demons flitting about the palace parapets tomorrow?”

Van could only groan softly at that prospect. While it wasn’t exactly a secret that he wasn’t human, it certainly wasn’t common knowledge. However King Aston knew damn well about Van’s less than human parentage and would immediately know that his royal guest had been up to unusual antics last night. Ugh, he wasn’t going to hear the end of this. If he was lucky, he’d just be subjected to a stern lecture on proper royal decorum… at worst, it would be Princess Eries giving it and she always had a way of managing to make him feel like he was five years old again with his hand caught in the cookie box.

“Next time we need more obstacles.” Dilandau continued, utterly oblivious to Van’s imminent punishment, and likely not caring. After all, it’s not as if he’d be suspected. “Tomorrow let’s fly around the temple of Jeture! There’s all sorts of buttressing and colonnades we can dodge around!”

He should say no. He knew he should say no. It was irresponsible, foolish and only served to scare the poor civilians and guards half to death.

“That sounds like fun.” His traitorous mouth spoke up before he could clamp a hand over it. Dammit! He was a king! A foreign king, visiting his allies, his VERY powerful allies who were the primary country helping to rebuild his own. He had to act responsibly for his people if nothing else.

“Great! I want to collect one of their pennants! I think I’m going to snatch one from each and every high roof and start a collection.” Dilandau grinned widely, his eyes already scanning the city line, eager to spot potential targets.

“So you’re wanting to start an avian crime wave… lovely.”

“More of a vandalism wave really.” Dilandau forced himself to sit up, his wings struggling to hold themselves up properly above his back. He’d noticed how fresh Van still looked and refused to sprawl in a boneless heap while the other still appeared ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Exhaustion be damned. “Besides, the likelihood of anyone actually noticing is pretty slim. Add in the fact that they’ll most likely think the wind blew the flags away before blaming rogue draconians and I’ll totally get away with it.”

“You were a nightmare for your commanding officers weren’t you?” Van couldn’t quite bite back a grin at that.

“Only for those who didn’t know how to handle me.” The albino sounded smugly amused for a whole five seconds before he remembered exactly how he’d been handled. The smile on his face faded as something wrenched itself sickeningly in his guts. How many of his superiors had he followed because he’d honestly admired them and how many because he was being controlled? There were still too many holes and fuzzy patches in his memories to know for sure but he had a rather strong feeling that he wouldn’t like the answer. Dammit, how much of his life was a lie?

“Which flag are you after once you get the one at the top of the temple?” Van asked quickly, noticing the broken look in Dilandau’s eyes and wanting to fix it quickly before the other teen fell too deeply into despair. It was odd to realize that he cared about the other youth’s emotional state when only a day or so ago he was vowing to cut his head off in the name of justice. It’s amazing how quickly things changed when your world was turned upside down…. Which was likely exactly what had happened with Allen and his crew. Ugh, he was such an idiot.

Van groaned softly at himself, seeing his previous actions from a new point of view and realizing how uncaring and uncompromising he’d been with his friends. Allen was right, he had to learn to adapt or get left behind. Dilandau wasn’t his enemy right now… true, he was still a royal pain in the butt, but that was a far cry from stalking him across the length and breadth of Gaea, murdering everyone in his wake.

Realizing that Dilandau was still lost in his downward spiral, Van gently brushed their wings against each other. The sensation, still so new and alien pulled the dragonslayer back to awareness and he blinked at Van cautiously, likely expecting some sort of attack over his moment of vulnerability.

“After you get Jeture’s, what flag are you going to take next?” The king repeated, taking a page from Gaddes’ book and not drawing attention to the lapse. He knew that he certainly wouldn’t want anyone noticing his own weaknesses, and Dilandau was far prouder than Van was on any given day of the week.

The albino pondered the question, relieved to have something new to focus on other than his inner turmoil. His sharp crimson eyes glanced around the line of unguarded rooftops, searching for a flag that stood out amongst its fellows. There were certainly a lot to choose from. Honestly, it was as if this city was permanently celebrating themselves or something.

A slow grin of pure mischief spread across his face as his gaze locked on his prey and he pointed to a flag hovering high up above the harbour perched atop a massive leviship.

“That one.” Van followed his line of sight and blinked several times, hardly shocked.

“The flag on top of the royal navy flagship?” Of course… of course it would be the most insane target possible in a hundred mile radius.

“It’s pretty. I like it.”

“It’s also suicidal.” Van countered. “How are you going to get it without being seen?” For a moment, Dilandau just looked at him, the oddest expression on his face. He appeared to be almost wistful and the sheer lack of any challenge or homicidal rage in his rival’s eyes was more than a little unsettling.

“You sounded just like Gatti for a moment.” Dilandau looked back at the ship, blinking his eyes rapidly for a few moments as he regathered his emotions.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He kept his tone light and focused on studying the intended target. The Flag of Jeture would be simple, just stretching their wings. The flagship…. It was hovering over a large well-lit and well patrolled harbour and the ship itself was heavily manned. “Got any portable stealth cloaks tucked away somewhere?” Please say no, please say no.

“No.” Praise Escaflowne! “But that’s a brilliant idea.” Dammit! When would he learn to keep his mouth shut!? “Imagine the scouting the two of us could do against our enemies. We’re too small for ship sensors to pick up, we’re silent, manoeuvrable and if we were also invisible….”

“But those require large energy resources right?” Honestly he had no idea how the damn devices worked, Folken was the brilliant one in the family, Van was far more action oriented. In answer, Dilandau nodded his head, looking far more introspective and thoughtful than the king felt was healthy. “Tell me you don’t know how to whip up a portable stealth cloak.” He finally sighed, admitting defeat. Rather than receiving a bold statement in response, he only got a soft chuckle.

“No, that was more Folken’s thing. That doesn’t keep it from being brilliant though… if I could talk a Zaibach engineer into working for me though…. Did anyone survive the Vione’s destruction?”

Van thought for a moment then shrugged apologetically.

“It’s always possible. Things were pretty chaotic when it went down. The city was in shambles, everyone was panicking and well… huge floating fortress dropping out of the sky…I’m sure that some people had to have gotten to some units with flight capabilities. Did you guys have little escape ships or anything on board?”

“Ruthless empire.” Dilandau nibbled idly on a fingertip as he thought. “You defend the ship with your life or you die with it. It’s an excellent motivator really.”

“You guys are sick, you know that right?”

“Like I’ve ever defended my sanity.” Crimson eyes flashed in the moonlight, the sheer joy of challenge shining in their depths as the last of his despair was burned away. “So it’s possible that people survived…I might be able to track down an engineer.”

“Like how you tracked me all over?” Honestly, now that Van wasn’t being endlessly pursued by the madman all over the land, he had to admit that that particular ability was rather brilliant and useful in numerous ways.

“Sort of. There won’t be any connection to latch onto like there is with us, but sheer necessity should help in that regard.”

“Meaning, you’ll find them because you need to?” Oh that just wasn’t fair.

“Pretty much.”

“Well that’s hardly fair. I’m half Draconian and I can’t do anything like that!” Well, so much for his inner monologue.

“You can see things that are invisible.” Dilandau countered easily. “I’d say that that was a rather handy ability given what you were dealing with at the time. Who knows what other tricks you might dig up when the situation calls for it.” Somehow that still didn’t sound like he was getting a fair deal in the special abilities department but then again, his life hadn’t depended on some sort of stunning success every single day just to survive. Besides, he still had Escaflowne and the bond with the mystical armour. No one would ever be able to match him when he was with it.

“So, I take it that flying was a resounding success with you?” It wasn’t the most graceful conversational change, but Dilandau didn’t seem to mind judging by the grin spreading across his face as well as his eager nod.

“Yeah, the wings aren’t bad at all, once you get over the initial soul shattering agony of them tearing their way through your rib cage that first time. I’ve experienced several rather unpleasant procedures over the course of my life, but I have to say, that’s in the top ten things I’d rather never experience again. It’s right up there with spontaneous gender changes.”

“Wait, you actually remember that? I thought that you just sort of blacked out or something.” Was it wrong to be so interested in this tidbit of information? Likely yes, but Van found that he couldn’t quite keep from asking the morbid question. At least Dilandau didn’t seem to take it personally. Rather than grow offended, he simply shrugged elegantly and resumed looking up at the stars.

“I remember waking up to agony the likes of which you can’t even imagine. That’s happened three times that I recall, but my memory is still rather terrible.” He admitted in a soft voice, sounding almost as if he was reciting a story he’d read somewhere, disassociating himself from the experience. “It’s all blinding pain, confusion, terror. Imagine suddenly waking up on fire in some strange place with no idea how you got there or why your body was burning to a crisp.”

“Lovely analogy there.”

“Would you rather I elaborate on what it feels like to have your dick shrivel up and fall off?”

“NO!! No please… I’m so sorry!!” Oh gods! He hadn’t even thought about that! And Dilandau had lived through it?!?! Multiple times? His own organ in question actually felt like it wanted to pull into his body for safe keeping and his stomach churned horribly at the very thought. How could he be so utterly insensitive!? He knew what Dilandau had gone through! Ugh, here they were trying to build some sort of understanding between each other and he’d just gone and kicked it all right in the teeth like the idiot he was! Gods of Gaea, no one should know what that felt like! No wonder Dilandau was so insane.

“Good, because I honestly don’t remember that part… thankfully.” It took a few moments for the words to sink in and a second or two longer for Van to fully comprehend that he was being teased by the taller youth. That bastard! What made it worse was that the jerk was actually laughing! That was the last time he tried to be understanding!

“Oh shit, you should have seen your face!” Dilandau nearly fell off the roof he was laughing so hard. “I thought you were either going to crap yourself in horror or burst a blood vessel trying to apologize!”

“You’re a real asshole, you know that don’t you?” Unable to help himself, Van reached over and gave Dilandau a solid shove, sending the other teen off the building with a startled yelp. Once again, it didn’t immediately register what he’d just done until he heard the frantic flapping of wings then an eerie silence.

“Oh gods of Gaea! I’m sorry!” He blurted out, scrambling for the edge and looking over, praying that he wasn’t going to see a splattered carcass on the ground below. “Don’t be dead!!”

Pale hands suddenly reached out from below the roofs overhang and caught his wrists in a steely grip. Before he could yelp, they gave a sharp jerk and he was pulled over the edge. Instinctively, his wings spread out, catching the air and granting him lift, but Dilandau hung on, hooking his foot beneath the edge of the roof, he used his entire body to twist sharply, altering his grip as he did so and sending them both slamming back down onto the roof. The impact knocked the wind out of Van and before he could regather himself, Dilandau was straddling him, pinning him down against the tiles, fingers digging into his skin with bruising force.

Every instinct screamed at the young king to throw off his attacker, but his sense of honour forbade it. He’d pushed Dilandau off the roof, he deserved to be hit or choked or whatever the albino youth decided to do to him in retaliation. All he could do was meet his fate with dignity.

Instead of the expected blow, Dilandau simply held him down, his crimson eyes studying his rival with open curiosity. He’d never really had the chance to see Van up close for any length of time. There had always been the ever present clash of swords or their armour in between them, never mere cloth. Up here on the rooftops, there was no sense of urgency or call of battle and the young captain was quick to take advantage of this rare opportunity.

He found it amusing that guilt seemed to seep from every one of Van’s pores and enjoyed the way that smaller body tensed beneath him, struggling to hold still despite the risks. It was most likely some stupid sense of justice that kept the king still. While it made no sense at all to the dragonslayer, he certainly wasn’t going to let this rare chance slip through his fingers.

“If I chose to hit you, you’d take it wouldn’t you?” He leaned forward slightly, his breath brushing against Van’s cheek, ruffling a few dark strands of hair. Dammit, he’d always found submission to be so unbelievably sexy, especially when he knew how against the others personality it was. Miguel had been such a wonderful example of that.

“I’m sorry.” The darker youth murmured, staring up at him with wide honey brown eyes. They were far too expressive considering what the king had seen and done in the past. Everything about the other teen reeked of vulnerability even though Dilandau knew he was anything but that. How much was it costing him to lay there beneath him? How hard was he fighting his very nature to put himself at the tenuous mercy of his onetime enemy? Sweet destiny, it was almost too much to resist.

“Sorry for what Van?” He leaned a little closer, adjusting his grip on those strong wrists slightly, keeping them pinned down firmly. Their bodies pressed intimately together, creating the most delicious friction and Dilandau could feel a rather fascinating heat growing between them.

This close, he could smell Van’s skin and it was strangely not at all what he’d expected. Rather than the earthy blend of greenery, dirt and sweat he’d figured would waft up from the pinned youth; he was greeted by the subtle scent of a winter’s breeze, drunk in from high altitude. Mingled with this rather intoxicating scent was the strange hint of cinnamon of all things with just a faint undertone of sweat from their previous exertions. Clean, exotic, and stimulating, it was a scent that was as unexpected as it was pleasant and demanded savouring. Leaning closer, Dilandau allowed the olfactory treat to wrap around his senses.

It was obvious that his proximity was just increasing Van’s discomfort but he didn’t care, in fact, that was part of the fun and he wondered how far he’d be allowed to push this before the little king retaliated. Allowing himself a faint grin of challenge, he rocked his hips slightly, enjoying the sudden rush of liquid heat pooling in his loins.

Utterly unsure of what was happening; Van was unable to bite back a slight groan before swallowing nervously, drawing Dilandau’s eyes to the tantalizing bob of that dark adam’s apple and the subtle flexing of tendons. What would that skin taste like? How would it feel between his teeth or pressed against his tongue? Would Van moan when he was bit? Would he whimper and beg?

Nervousness radiated up from the supine youth in waves as he continued to watch Dilandau, unsure why the albino wasn’t pushing the attack. The predatory air around the pale youth grew with every breath they took and he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs as his instincts screamed at him to run, fight, or… something else. No one had ever dared to attack him in such a manner… this was an attack right? It was hard to tell when Dilandau was just looking at him the way Merle looked at small twitchy things. His body felt too hot, too tight… there was a growing restlessness in his lower belly that made him want to squirm and the sheer strangeness of it all was more than a little frightening.

Flexing his wrists slightly proved that while he might not be attacking, Dilandau’s grip was still strong as steel and there was no sign of him easing up anytime soon. His fingers were already beginning to tingle from the blood loss.

When Dilandau shifted, electric sparks shot up through his body, pooling heatedly in his groin before shooting up his spine, leaving his nerves white hot and quivering. His breath stuttered as his body stiffened, unsure of how to interpret these strange sensations.

He needed to ground himself, to take control of the situation before it spiralled any further into this strangeness… only, he couldn’t quite think straight. His breathing was too fast, his head was spinning and his entire body felt like it was about to vibrate apart if Dilandau didn’t stop pressing against him like that!

“Sorry!” Van blurted out, the sound almost more of a bark than actual words. Taking a deep breath, the young king tried again, struggling to stay focused on the words and not the weight pressing down on him or the soft brush of feathers against his arms. “I’m sorry… for everything.” This time his voice was soft, almost shy in tone and it earned him a gentle scoffing sort of laugh from Dilandau. Above him, those pale lips poised so close to his own twisted in the corners, forming the faintest of smiles.

“What did I tell you about apologizing to me?” Van really had no idea what was going on anymore. If Dilandau didn’t want to fight, then why was he pinning him like this? Why did his voice sound different? It was huskier, more velvety and sent shivers down Van’s spine. This was so far beyond his realm of experience that he honestly had no clue how to react. It seemed safer to just stay as still as possible and hope that whatever strangeness had taken over them both soon passed.

“You... you said that it was an insult.” The smile grew into a full blown smirk, though for once it was lacking in malice. That normally should have put Van somewhat at ease, but instead, he could feel his heart still hammering away at a frantic pace while adrenaline tore through his body, demanding action.

“Mmmhmmm. So, first you throw me off of a roof, then you insult me… tsk tsk. Those are hardly the actions of a great and shining hero.” Now it was Dilandau’s turn to lick his lips, leaving a glistening trail in its wake and Van found himself torn between staring at them and losing himself in those alien eyes.

Wait! This was a seduction! Dilandau was trying to seduce him!? UGH NO! That wasn’t right! They were supposed to fight and argue… and fight! There was not supposed to be any seduction or heat between them! None! He loved Hitomi! Hitomi who was on another world, out of time… married to another man…GAH! Why was the world against him lately!?

“Whatever shall I do with you Van?” The words were practically purred out and once again, Van felt a surge of heat sizzle through his lower belly, leaving him feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Nononono. This wasn’t good! This was the complete opposite of good! He knew what was going on. It wasn’t like he was a complete innocent in the ways of love. Gods of Gaea, he’d worked side by side with Allen for a year and a half and he’d suffered being a rival to the man for over half of that! This was nothing like the warm and gentle love he’d felt for Hitomi. There was nothing comforting or strengthening here. Dilandau was using him to get back at Gaddes, or to drown his own pain at being rejected. That’s all this was, just another twisted game dreamed up by an equally twisted mind.

Still… his traitorous mind did quickly point out that Dilandau did smell intriguing. It also felt more than a little interesting having someone pressed against him like that. Every time the albino shifted even minutely, it sent the most amazing waves of blistering pleasure through his body and h found himself biting his lip as he struggled to stay perfectly still, not wanting to encourage his tormentor.

No one had ever been this close to him for this long, not even Hitomi. They’d always been too aware of decorum and etiquette to permit it. That and the whole war thing had put a rather effective damper on everything. But… this was Dilandau of all people, the guy who slaughtered villages for fun, who put entire countries to the torch! Who’d screamed for his blood over and over again until the sound of his voice had eaten its way into his nightmares for colours.

“You… you could let me up?” Van finally managed to squeak out, wishing that his voice hadn’t come out sounding quite so high and strained. Dammit! He was a king and a war hero! Not some virginal teenage boy! Well… ok, he was, but he was the other stuff first and that counted more right!? Ugh, this was so stupid! He was being stupid!

Well, one thing was for sure, he certainly wasn’t going to lay here any longer like some sacrificial offering just waiting to be taken! He was King Van Slanzer Fanel and he’d had enough of this!

With a strength that belied his smaller form, Van bucked his hips up sharply, managing to dislodge Dilandau just enough for the king to free his hands from that crushing grip. He hooked his legs around Dilandau’s and twisted, using his wings for added leverage. With a startled “oomph” The taller youth hit the roof and now found himself to be the one on his back pinned, his wings pressed down at an awkward angle and rendered useless.

“Are we done with the little dominance play?” Van growled softly, unable to resist baring his teeth slightly as he once again locked eyes with the albino. “Because I’m not one of your dragonslayers, and hero or not, I don’t play nice.”

Now it was Dilandau’s turn to struggle and squirm beneath him, but despite his greater height, Van had the heavier build and used that to his advantage, using his weight to keep the other boy pinned securely. It felt good to finally have the dreaded Dilandau Albatou at his mercy after running from him for so long. Just feeling him there, beneath him, vulnerable… it made his blood sing and his body grow hot. His wingtips brushed against the marginal covert feathers of Dilandau’s inner wings, aware of how sensitive they were to touch and delighted in feeling the proud youth stiffen beneath him in response. Shock was written across that lovely face and crimson eyes grew wide.

It was such a delicious rush of power that Van found himself understanding how much Dilandau had enjoyed his previous position. Watching those sleek muscles tense futilely, feeling that body brush and press against his own as the albino made another grasp at freedom was intoxicating but nowhere near as delicious as watching the frustrated defiance flashing in those brilliant crimson eyes.

The struggle didn’t last long, in fact it seemed more like just an automatic response for the trapped youth and in moments his body stilled as he relented to being held there, staring up into the eyes of his captor.

“No…” Dilandau murmured, his voice sounding breathy. “You don’t play nice, do you.” He didn’t seem at all upset over this turn of events. In fact, there was something almost desperately hungry in his tones that caused Van to quickly reassess what exactly he was doing. Quickly, the young king pulled back as if struck, releasing his captive and putting some space in between them.

Rather than looking upset over what had just happened, Dilandau simply propped himself up on one elbow and watched Van. The smirk on his face implied that he was enjoying some strange private joke while the king tried to rub the pins and needles out of his hands.

“I’d heard stories about what Fanelians get up to with each other on their raiding parties, but I’d never quite pictured you for the type.” The albino murmured softly, arching his wings up behind him elegantly.

“What are you talking about?” Van shot back defensively, his own wings pulled in tightly against his back, suspicious of what was coming but unable to stop himself from asking. In response, Dilandau shifted slightly, leaning forward as his smirk twisted into a wide leer.

“All those men away from their women for weeks… colours of time… the naughty things they’d get up to…” He let his voice trail off, allowing Van to fill in all the scandalous blanks for himself. Of course, Van knew that the albino was just messing with him, tossing out those little barbs of his to see which ones stuck. Unfortunately, Van had heard the stories as well and while he didn’t condemn or deny them, he’d never pictured himself taking part in any such actions. He’d always had the memory of Hitomi to console him and ease away the pains of loneliness.

“It’s not going to happen Dilandau so stop fishing.” Truth be told, he was a little proud of himself when he saw those crimson eyes narrow slightly. Hah, direct hit! It felt good to catch the other teen at one of his games and call him on it. “What was that about anyway?” He found himself asking, making a point to not look at Dilandau directly despite how much his body longed for that delicious tingling heat the other youth had so willingly provided. Instead, he examined his wings and smoothed out the feathers that had gotten ruffled during their scuffle. “You’re supposed to hate me remember?”

“We’re supposed to be getting along, remember?” Dilandau shot back, not looking at all bothered by what had occurred. Of course he wouldn’t, from what he’d learned tonight, that was probably normal behaviour to him. He probably enjoyed it… gods of Gaea, would he have actually let…could he have wanted… No, don’t’ even think about it stupid brain! Stupid teenage hormones! This would be so much easier to deal with if Dilandau didn’t look as beautiful as a woman. Arg!!! Shut up brain!! The mental images his overactive imagination happily supplied caused his cheeks to heat up and he quickly turned away, hoping the other youth didn’t see.

“You blush easily for someone with darker skin.” Dammit, fate really did hate him didn’t it? Frantically, Van searched his brain for something clever to say, something vaguely insulting, just enough to put that overbearing jerk in his place without shattering their truce and ruining what had been a surprisingly fun if somewhat disturbing night.

“….shut up!” He was never going to be known for his witty repartee was he? Once again, Dilandau snickered at him in amusement the way one might with a puppy who’d mastered an adorable trick. Dammit, Van never thought he’d miss the psychotic and violent dragonslayer captain. He was so much easier to deal with. “We… we should get back though, Gaddes is likely having a heart attack with worry. I forgot to tell him that I’d found you. He’s probably still searching the grounds.”

“Good.” Dilandau crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. It was that all too familiar sneer which radiated contempt in spades. “Let the bastard worry, he deserves it.”

“Dilandau….”

“Don’t you dare defend him!” The dragonslayer snapped heatedly. “I don’t want to think about him right now. I’m having fun and for the first time today I don’t feel like destroying every damn life on this accursed world just to hear them all scream! As far as I’m concerned, the bastard doesn’t exist!”

“Isn’t that going to make it hard to train him?” Van couldn’t help but ask, already seeing half a dozen ways that this fit of childish pique wasn’t going to work for the captain. “You sort of have to acknowledge him; he IS your second in command with this group.”

“I assure you that I’m perfectly capable of separating my professional and personal lives. If he wants to be nothing more than my subordinate and servant, then he’s damn well welcome to the position. It’s going to be a nasty surprise for him though when he finds out how little tolerance I will have for his whining and foolishness.” Yeah, vindictiveness, thy name is Dilandau. It was hard to keep that thought from his face as he studied the angry albino.

Gaddes really should have known better than to get physically involved with him. It’s not as if Dilandau was well known for his restraint after all. The sergeant was going to be lucky if he was able to even survive the day, with or without professionalism being remembered.

“Just don’t forget that he’s still got those stitches in his side. If you push him too hard, they’ll tear.”

“Are you telling me how to lead my men?” That dangerous warning edge was back in Dilandau’s voice and Van heaved a soft sigh of frustration. Surely he had never been this difficult to deal with, though memories of Allen’s furrowed brow during arguments likely spoke volumes otherwise.

“No, I’m not, but I know how much you like revenge.”

“Gaddes will ride as we run, he’ll use the lighter practice blade and work his abbreviated drills until he’s physically able to keep up with the rest of the group. As I said before, I’m a professional soldier Van, I know what I’m doing. I promised him that I’d teach him how to pilot an Alseides and I keep my word. Once he learns to my satisfaction, he can go back to Schezar and his damn crew like he no doubt wants and have a few laughs at my expense, I don’t care.”

There was no mistaking the cold icy tones and the clear warning to drop the subject and Van wasn’t in the mood to fight him on this. Gaddes had made the right decision… finally. But that didn’t mean that the man wasn’t going to have to deal with the repercussions of his one massively wrong decision for possibly years to come.

“When are you planning to let King Aston know about the Oreades?” He found himself asking, hoping to mollify the albino with a change to a conversation he was happily passionate about. “I don’t see that going over very well considering how much destruction you caused with that nightmare.” Guymelefs and annoying the king, those were sure fire win as far as topic choices went.

“Psh.” Dilandau scoffed softly, ruffling his wings slightly. “I caused way more property damage in Astoria while in my Alseides. All I did in the Oreades was raze Rampant to the ground and then slaughter a few dozen knights in that last battle… maybe more than a few dozen, I wasn’t really counting.”

“Oh? So you wouldn’t mind if we junked it?”

“You wish.” Dilandau huffed lightly. His fingers toyed with the feather hanging around his neck, tapping the tip of it against his chin then lightly tracing it over his lips. The motion was utterly sensual and Van couldn’t quite keep himself from staring at the action, his cheeks once again growing warmer. Did the dragonslayer realize that he was stroking a piece of Van’s body across his face? Did he care? It was such a casually intimate motion that the king couldn’t help but feel more than a little self-conscious at witnessing it. “It’s still the best guyemelf on Gaea, there’s no way I’m letting anyone touch my Oreades but me.”

“The best?” Van couldn’t keep himself from rising to his own defence. “Escaflowne beat your Oreades each time we fought.” He snapped before he could even think of stopping himself and immediately regretted his words, fully expecting to hear another tirade about demon armours, vengeance and a stream of graphic threats. Instead, Dilandau leaned over and lightly poked Vans nose with the feather in his hands.

“Do keep in mind that each time you fought me in the Oreades, I was more than half out of my mind and hardly fit to fight let alone pose any sort of challenge. I assure you that if we fought now, the results would be quite different. After all, I won all of our fights when I was in the Alseides.”

“You did not!” Now it was Van’s turn to poke back and he did so gladly, likely leaving a bruise on the other boy’s chest to be discovered at a later date. “I destroyed you at the temple in Freid.”

“I’d just found out that my lover had been murdered AND Folken was busy screwing me over with his damn Fate Alteration Engine.”

“Fortuna Temple!”

“Oh please.” Dilandau scoffed playfully. “I was ordered to pull back, we’d won and Folken obviously wanted to give you a chance to escape.” He grinned widely at the smaller youth, obviously gloating over the past victory. “Besides, you mentioned that you were so damaged from that fight that you passed out from blood loss and don’t you dare mention when you slaughtered my men. Folken was behind that, I’m positive.”

Van hadn’t been about to bring up that dark battle. It was one of his worst moments during the war and not worth shattering this tentative… whatever it was they were beginning to build between each other. If Dilandau wanted this victory so badly, he was welcome to it. After all, Van had won the war, he could be generous with a few battles.

“You still cheat when you fight.” He countered instead, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the rather smug albino.

“I’m just a much better strategist. Besides, it was a war not a duel, there are no damn rules. It’s not my fault that you people never bothered to use any of your advantages properly during a fight. Only an idiot enters battle with a dull blade.”

“If I try to argue that point, you’re going to list every stupid mistake I made during the war aren’t you.” Van’s voice was deadpan and posed a lovely contrast to Dilandau’s rather bright nod and sound of affirmation.

“Of course. I make it a point to keep list every single one of your faults in detail. Would you like to hear them?” He sounded far too eager for Van’s taste and he couldn’t quite keep himself from rolling his eyes.

“You do realize how obsessed you sound right?”

“I’m comfortable with who I am.” Crimson eyes shone with far too much delight as Dilandau grinned widely at him. “So, shall I list the stupidity in order of appearance? Or would you prefer I rank them?”

“I thought we were going to try to put the war behind us and start over?” Granted, he was more than a little curious as to what actions the dragonslayer had considered to be stupid. Likely boldly walking up to him at Fort Castillo and trying to stare him down when he was supposed to be staying hidden, or leading the Dragonslayers away from their attack on the Crusade… then promptly getting stomped into the ground and caught… yeah, it was likely a long list now that he thought about it.

“Hmmm, starting over… that sounds like a job for more alcohol.” Dilandau crossed his arms over his chest as he made the pronouncement and looked around as if actually expecting a bottle to mystically appear at his behest. None made any sudden appearances and the albino let out a heartfelt sigh. “Looks like we’ll have to go back in.” He stated, glancing in the general directions of their rooms. “We can always send Palos to get some more of that whisky you had. It seemed to do the trick.”

“Don’t you have soldiers to train in a few hours?” For all of the pale teenager’s reckless behaviour, he didn’t strike Van as the sort to attend to his duties with anything less than perfect mental clarity.

“That’s not a class, it’s me killing time.” Dilandau scoffed softly. “I can count the prospective pilots on one hand and still have fingers left over.” He sounded more disgusted than amused by this which surprised Van. He’d have put money on the dragonslayer trying to find some way of sabotaging Astoria’s army rather than making an honest effort at training. Granted, Dilandau loathed failure in any form, he didn’t even take it well when enemies disappointed him… as Van had painfully learned during their first fight.

“So… why teach them?”

“Does King Aston strike you as the sort of man to accept me telling him that his men simply don’t have that particular skill set necessary to become elite pilots?” A slight smirk tugged at Dilandau’s lips, but the rest of his face seemed pensive rather than amused. There was no need to reply to the question; both boys knew the answer to that one. The king had publicly invested himself in Dilandau’s promise and he’d lose a great deal of face if his gamble didn’t pay off.

While Dilandau enjoyed playing the part of the vicious unthinking weapon of war, he was far from being a fool and knew that failure would cost him more than his precarious standing at court. It would cost him his freedom, then his life. Annoyingly, he also knew that it would cost Schezar everything as well and as much as he loathed admitting it, he was deeply indebted to the man. His sense of honour might be warped as far as the rest of Gaea was concerned, but it still existed, and he would not let such a debt go unpaid.

“I can keep them from getting killed by their machines and actually be of use on the battlefield, but only two of them have the potential to becoming anything like the Dragonslayers.” It annoyed him to have to admit this, especially to Van but really, what was the point in lying? He was going to notice the difference in abilities soon enough. “They’re too entitled, too soft.” It was hard to describe that predatory spirit he’d seen in the eyes of each of his precious Slayers. The thirst to win at all costs, no matter what the sacrifice. He’d sensed kindred spirits in those young boys he’d selected for his team and knew that they would push each other, challenge each other and in the end, support each other the way a true unit had to in order to survive.

These men were all about their political goals. They wanted status, wealth, fame… they fought for their families names rather than the sheer love of the challenge and it made them weak in their core.

“They also can’t multitask well enough to handle flight controls. If I put them in a flight capable unit, the casualty rate in the class would be over 80%.”

Van leaned forward, more than a little intrigued by the assessment. It was odd hearing Dilandau speak like a professional soldier rather than a battle crazed maniac. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was speaking to Allen or Balgus rather than the vicious youth who’d laughed as a city burned around him.

“You haven’t really given them much of a chance though.” Van found himself stating, unsure as to why he was defending the astorian knights in question. If anyone would know who had what it took to become an Alseides pilot, it would be Dilandau, not him. “You only trained them for one day.”

“Clearly someone didn’t see the point in all those mindless drills I put you all through.” Now the smirk reached Dilandau’s eyes as he chuckled softly, recalling how many times the knights had jostled each other or had to quickly reverse a thrust or risk impaling the person ahead of them, spoiling their attacks. Only Van, Regis, Gaddes and a young knight named Tillion had managed to flow with the movements of those around them and adjust accordingly. They’d kept track of everything around them and shown far more awareness of the space they occupied than anyone else. No, they hadn’t been flawless, far from it, but they’d shown that flash of potential that he’d been looking for.

“I thought you were just trying to make me fall on my face and give up.” Van allowed himself a soft chuckle and Dilandau couldn’t exactly deny that that had been an added perk.

“Ground units are tricky enough for the average pilot.” The albino stated, a hint of pride colouring his voice. “You have your standard movement controls, coms, crima controls, claw controls as well as targeting and environmental systems. During a fight, you need to be aware of all of these and react accordingly to all the information you’re being given as well as fight. You’re also doing this while being almost completely submerged in pressurized liquid metal. Most people find it overwhelming.”

“… all of that? You’re exaggerating right?”

“You said you looked inside my Oreades after that last battle. Did you think all those buttons and little screens were for decoration?” A silvery brow arched up elegantly and the smirk grew a tad wider. “Now when you add in a flight capable model, you have a whole new set of controls to master, plus radar, your levistone systems, altimeter…” He began ticking systems off on his fingers and Van felt his head begin to spin at the sheer volume of information. While he’d pretty much lost track of the list after levistone systems, he continued to nod his head, not wanting to sound like an idiot, especially when Dilandau was speaking as if these were all basic bits of information.

“Everything is always fluctuating in the Alseides and since the systems are all so heavily integrated with each other, if one goes, you can easily lose everything. You’ve seen the result of that happening.” Dilandau clapped his hands together sharply then quickly pulled them apart, wiggling his fingers to simulate flames.

“Folken was working on creating some fail safes to keep that from happening so easily, but I guess it was hard to fit into his schedule what with all the treason and backstabbing he had going on. The Oreades at least boasts several safety upgrades as well as much greater energy conservation.”

“Safety upgrades?” Van cut in. “That thing has TWO flamethrowers! Two!!”

“Yeah….” Dilandau didn’t even bother hiding his grin. “It’s a beautiful machine isn’t it?”

“That depends on what end of the flames you’re on.”

“Well, I’ll find out soon enough won’t I?” The albino’s smile turned almost wistful. “There will be seven enemy guymelefs to fight and they’ll be Oreades quality or close to it. Folken’s designs were accessible by the Madoushi after all. Shroden wouldn’t go through all the work of making a squad of Fate Alteration Soldiers and not equip them with the best in military hardware.”

“Great… one of you was more than enough you know.”

“Says you. I never got to fight me. Personally, I’m looking forward to this.” The worst thing was that Dilandau was honestly speaking the truth and it took everything Van had inside him to keep from groaning in despair. He just knew that the kill happy moron was going to jump right into the middle of the fray the instant those golden guymelefs showed themselves.

“I think you’re right.” He finally murmured, more to himself than to his companion. “We should find Palos and get more alcohol.” Those seemed to be magic works because Dilandau brightened immediately, his wings practically fluffing up in delight.

 

 

The Messenger wasn’t hard to find. The duo located him pacing back and forth in front of Dilandau’s rooms clutching a bottle of wine by its thin neck and acting as if he was debating on hiding it or throwing it against the wall. When the two teenagers made their appearance, the man actually looked like he wanted to run away as fast as possible, but honestly, that wasn’t far too different from usual so neither paid it any mind. Van took a moment to note that it was likely because Dilandau was wandering around without either a blouse or jacket, both of them obviously still more than a little drunk considering how they were leaning on each other rather precariously for balance. The somewhat bedraggled palace flag was draped over Dilandau’s pale shoulders like a cloak, dragging on the floor behind him and had actually tripped the two of them several times, though neither were willing get rid of it.

No doubt they would both be hearing a long and highbrow lecture about lewd behaviour, appropriate dress codes for nobles and how one shouldn’t wander about half naked through the palace in the wee hours of the morning. While Van would normally agree with all of those points, he did feel that this was the best compromise considering the jacket and blouse previously worn were covered in blood. As for the rest of the extensive list of offences…. Oops?

“Where have you two been!?” Palos immediately lanced into them, looking both horrified and relieved at the sight of them. “Gaddes has been beside himself with worry and wandering the entirety of the palace in search of you!” The man did a double take, this time noticing the captain’s severe lack of proper dress and both boys’ windblown looks. “Oh sweet Jeture, tell me that you haven’t been… inappropriate.”

“WHAT!?!?!” Van burst out in shock, this having been the last thing he’d been expecting. Worse, he could feel his cheeks heating up even before Dilandau shot a knowing smirk in his direction. “NO!!!” He continued to sputter, desperately trying to regain the unexpectedly lost ground. “We were on the roof! Why would you even think that?!” Even as he defended himself, he struggled to straighten himself up, brushing the albino’s arm off of his shoulders and taking a step away from him. Rather than helping, Dilandau simply allowed himself to flop against the nearest wall and burst into delighted giggles.

“Oh yes, didn’t you know? Van and I were secretly lovers during the war. Why do you think he kept letting himself get captured… seems he has a thing for chains…”

“Oh shut up!” The king hissed, his cheeks growing even hotter. “I do NOT have a thing for chains OR being captured!” He turned to Palos, his inebriated mind determined to try to prove his innocence. “We weren’t lovers, really. I hated his crazy ass!”

“Van liked my ass.” Dilandau sang softly from his wall and Van had to fight to keep from hitting him, or strangely enough, joining him in laughing because really, the whole situation struck him as ludicrously funny. Yeah, he enjoyed drunk fun Dilandau far more than sober angry Dilandau. There was less hitting and more touching… er… No, not touching! Touching was bad! Dammit! He needed more drink!

“You’re blushing again Van.” Dilandau’s voice was suddenly in his ear, making the king jump and give a rather unkingly sounding squeak as he scrambled back a few steps, nearly falling over his own feet. “Hey, you brought wine! Good on you Palos!” The dragonslayers voice brightened, drawing Van’s attention to the bottle.

The king felt his eyes growing wide in awe as he beheld the bottle and that shocked gaze then transferred to the albino.

“You weren’t kidding.” He all but whispered. “Fate really does give you what you need.”

“I told you. It’s one of the many weights I bear, being as amazing as I am.”

“Wish for even more wine! And a wolf clan revel! And… oh!! And Allen bald!!” Two sets of eyes turned to the king who only now realized how utterly childish he’d sounded.

“A wolf clan revel?” A silvery brow raised in question though pale lips turned up in a wide smile. “I didn’t think that a king would participate in such a thing. They do tend to get rather wild.” For a moment, Van was about to demand how Zaibach’s prize pilot would know about them either, then he remembered that Dilandau had lived with the Iron Fangs for several colours. Gods of Gaea, those revels must have been insane…

“Rhum is a good friend of mine.” He stated boldly, not wanting to be outdone by his rival. “I’ve been to several revels before.” He lifted his chin in a challenging manner, wishing for the tenth time tonight that he could actually look the other teenager directly in the eye. “Court celebrations were always boring, but the wolf clan were so much fun to be with, especially during revels.” The drinking, the dancing, the feasts and storytelling…. He’d always loved the rich cultures of the various beast clans of Gaea.

“Gasp, the emotionally repressed King of Fanealia actually has a wild side!” Dilandau placed a hand over his heart and pretended to swoon, nearly falling over as he lost his balance. “Will wonders never cease… Hey! Let’s make a toast to the glories of wonders and revels! Bring the wine Palos!”

The messenger was left with no choice but to hand over the bottle as Dilandau strode forward eagerly and snatched the drink from his hands even as Van murmured something about snarky albinos and their not cute asses.

“H…haven’t you both already had enough?” Palos found himself asking, guilt suddenly rising up inside him as he began to realize that these were just kids standing here in front of him, not demons, not monsters… just normal obnoxious teenagers who were clearly very drunk and being stupid.

“Bah, if I can walk, I can fight, and if I can fight, I can teach a bunch of Astorians how to hold a damn sword.” Dilandau announced, perhaps a tad too loudly given the hour. “Pointy end goes into the guy annoying you. See? Now come on, we’ll drink in my room. That way Palos won’t get all whiney about us wandering away again.” He waved a hand negligently as he headed inside his rooms, leaving the door open behind him and clearly not caring if the others followed. The wine was with him after all and that was all that really mattered. Realizing this, Van quickly followed.

“Why do you have one of the palace flags? How did you even get that?” The harried messenger couldn’t quite keep the sharp edge of an overwrought adult dealing with adolescent foolishness from his voice and he was unsurprisingly met by two wide innocent grins.

“We found it.”

“It fell… we’re taking care of it.”

“We’re going to make it our new war banner!”

“You can’t make the Astorian flag your war banner…can you?”

“If I dye it I can, we can make it red and have wings painted on it!”

“Better than draping real ones over your guymelef?”

“Compromise!”

Palos felt his head spinning as he tried to follow the conversation, fully aware that he was missing far too much subject matter to make this possible, not to mention enough alcohol in his system to understand any of what they were talking about. Clearly the flag was stolen somehow and by the looks of it, treated rather roughly during the process. Also, when had Dilandau acquired a feather necklace? It was rather lovely actually and he was half positive that the feather was actually glowing softly. Clearly nothing tonight was going to make any sense.

“I’m pouring. You hogged all the whisky.” Van loudly announced as the two flopped over gracelessly on the chairs by the fireplace, drawing the messenger’s attention back to the drama at hand. Sighing softly in defeat, Palos followed, hoping that he was doing the right thing as he closed and locked the door behind him. It wouldn’t do for Gaddes to walk in on them now, but the messenger kept his hand resting on the pommel of his sword just in case. His other hand went to his pocket, tightly squeezing the gem and praying to Jeture repeatedly for good fortune.

He watched quietly as the two youths argued playfully over whose glass received more wine, spilling a liberal amount on the table before finally grabbing their glasses and drinking heartily. Neither boy sipped, they were both far too drunk for that. Palos hoped that whatever poison was in the wine was tasteless. More importantly, he hoped that it wouldn’t hurt them too much. While he heartily agreed that Dilandau should suffer for his crimes, Van was a hero and truly deserved better. Still, there was no way to stop the king from drinking without alerting the captain to the danger so all he could do was sit back and hope for the best.

Somehow, the two boys managed to drain two glasses each before Van began to sway slightly, his eyes growing heavy and his limbs uncoordinated. It wasn’t the familiar dizziness one might expect to feel from indulging too heavily and it brought none of the pleasant euphoria he was used to. His instincts began to scream at him, warning of impending danger and he could almost picture the pendulum in his mind swinging wildly, pointing at the bottle over and over again.

“I… I think there’s….” His tongue was like lead, slurring his words badly. Truly worried now, Van wobbled badly as he tried to stand up, the glass falling from his suddenly nerveless fingers. Looking down, he saw Dilandau staring up at him, naked horror in his wide crimson eyes.

“Drugged….” The dragonslayer ground out as he also struggled to his feet, tripping on the edge of the chair, he fell heavily to his knees. Breathing heavily and sweat standing out on his pale brow, Dilandau groped his way towards the bed at the far end of the room where Gaddes had placed his sword earlier. “..run…. get away!” Every word cost him and he could feel that horribly familiar darkness edging his vision, pulling him away from the world. He’d felt this before far too many times to count and it had always preceded some new Madoushi horror. One of them had to escape and he knew deep inside that it had to be Van. The guards would never believe their former enemy, but their living breathing hero had a chance… he just had to buy the other teenager some time.

Unfortunately, Van had other ideas on that and rather than running, he spun around, gripping the side of the chair as he tried to draw his sword, ready for the expected attack. The room spun around him crazily and he could feel the pendant on his chest beginning to glow brightly in response to the danger. Dimly he wondered if Dilandau was trying to focus his power into the pendant again and whisk them away, but the light stuttered like a candle in a draft and he knew that there would be no pillar of light coming to their rescue.

With a grunt, the king fell to his knees, his head spinning wildly as his stomach cramped, struggling to eject its foul contents. Too little, too late, the poison was already in his system, shutting him down bit by bit and Van couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever be waking up.

“I’m sorry King Fanel.” Palos murmured softly and Van forced himself to look up in time to see the messenger walk over to the balcony and open the doors. Shadowy figures flowed into the darkening room, moving towards both of them.

“Traitor!” The king growled in fury, his dark glare full of hatred as he glared at the messenger for a moment before the incoming figures stole his attention away. Refusing to surrender without a fight, Van tried to lift his sword while over by the bed, he heard the soft hiss of another blade being drawn followed by a feeble yet defiant snarl.

“There’s no need to fight.” A voice murmured softly from the growing shadows. “We have no intention of killing you.”

“You’re both worth far too much alive after all.” A second voice chuckled cruelly and Van hard the sounds of a struggle taking place by the bed accompanied by Dilandau’s familiar cursing.

“Not… not going back…bastards!” The dragonslayer seemed to rally somewhat and Van saw a flash of steel followed by a sharp cry of pain as the attack struck true. It made him smile to know that they’d at the very least drawn blood on their behalf and he lunged at the figure in front of him with a defiant snarl. Unfortunately the small victory on the other side of the room was short lived as he heard the sound of a heavy fist impacting with flesh followed by a strangled grunt and the sharp clatter of a sword hitting the stone floor.

His own lunge missed and rough hands grabbed him as a heavy booted foot caught him in the stomach. Precious air was forced from his lungs and the room spun crazily around him as he struggled to brace himself against impending unconsciousness. Colours warred with the darkness as the battle to simply hold his weapon at the ready grew even more difficult and he dimly heard Palos yelling. It was impossible to make out the words and hopeless trying to focus… they were losing. There would be no last minute rescue, no pillar of light, no Allen, no ghosts rising up to drag their enemies into death. The room grew darker and darker until there was no light at all, only a disorienting mix of sounds and an endless twisting sensation.

Blind but refusing defeat with even his last breath, he swung yet again and this time felt a soft impact against his hand. For a moment he thought that he’d possibly scored a hit on his enemies as well, but then the pressure changed and he felt his family’s sword being pried from numbing fingers. Desperately he tried to hold on, but his fingers were nerveless and he couldn’t focus on what muscles would tighten his grip.

Everything was spinning, falling and growing more distant no matter how desperately he struggled to fight. No! It couldn’t end this way! They’d come so far! Gods of Gaea, he and Dilandau were actually working together for once! He’d learned that he wasn’t alone in this world! Dammit, they hadn’t even had a chance to train the damn soldiers properly! Astoria wouldn’t have a chance.

Dimly he remembered Hitomi’s warning only hours ago to run, that the enemies were already here. Why hadn’t he listened? Why had he just written it off as paranoid hysterics? _I’m sorry Hitomi_. He thought frantically, desperately trying to picture the girl in his mind on the minute chance that his message could reach her. _I didn’t listen… save us._ Then, he knew only oblivion.

 

“No!” Palos yelled as he saw Van lunge at one of the shadowy figures, only to be brought down by a vicious kick. He tried to leap forward and intercept the attack but strong hands grabbed him by the shoulder and a sharp blow sent him falling against the wall where he was then ignored.

“You’re only supposed to take Captain Albatou!” He tried again, rubbing a hand across his stinging face and noticing blood from a split lip. It was unnerving to see the smears of crimson and know that it was his, that someone had done this to him and he almost folded right there and then as the world threatened to spin out from under him. Another pained grunt from King Fanel grabbed his attention though and he struggled to right himself, moving towards the fight.

Dilandau had managed to stab one of the attackers with his sword before a swift blow across the face had knocked him out. The albino youth was sprawled out at the foot of the bed, motionless as the bleeding man gave him a swift kick in the side. There was no reaction, proving that the poison had done its work.

“Don’t’ damage him.” One of the shadow men growled softly. “He’s no use to anyone dead.” Several of the men grunted and as Palos watched, Dilandau was roughly hauled up and his limp body slung over the kidnapper’s shoulders. They began heading towards the balcony once more as the second set of men began to gather Van, binding his hands and feet with a quick sort of efficiency which warned that this was not their first kidnapping.

“Why are you taking King Fanel?” Palos repeated, trying to grab at the downed king and pull him away. “That wasn’t the deal! He’s a hero and a king, you can’t take him!” Another sharp blow sent him spinning to the floor where he lay there stunned, staring up into cold dark eyes.

“Who are you?” One of the men snarled, a hand reaching into the voluminous depths of his cloak and drawing a sword. Panic suddenly crashed over Palos as he realized that he had absolutely no control over what was going on. These men had no reason to listen to him let alone obey him.

Desperately, he dug into his pocket for the purple crystal. The other mysterious cloaked figure had used it to identify himself after all, maybe it was a symbol of some sort of network! If he could identify himself as an ally, he might be able to save the king.

Holding it up in the direction of the attackers, Palos did his best to make his voice sound steady.

“We’re on the same side!” He announced. “Taking King Fanel wasn’t part of the arrangement! It was only for Dilandau Albatou.”

Nimble fingers reached forward and deftly plucked the crystal from his hand before tucking it into the cloak. Without a further word, the man turned around and began to leave, following the first group. He made no effort to stop those picking up Van however and that worried Palos far more than the loss of the gemstone.

“That wasn’t the deal!” He gasped out one more time and was rewarded by seeing the leader pause and glance back. Dark eyes regarded him coolly for a moment before he turned away once more.

“Kill the witness.”

Palos heard the words but didn’t understand them, his brain was simply too shocked to fully comprehend what was happening until he felt strong rough fingers tangle in his hair, half pulling him to his feet. His head was yanked back sharply, exposing his throat and he saw a flash of steel out of the corner of his eye before there was a cold rush across his neck, followed by a strange liquid warmth.

There was no pain, at least in those first few moments. In fact, it hurt more when the fingers loosened their hold and he fell heavily onto the floor which was now wet with thick crimson blood. Sliding ineffectually in the mess, he tried to get to his feet but for some reason, his limbs weren’t obeying him and he had suddenly been reduced to an uncoordinated mess.

He watched as King Fanel was hefted over the shoulders of one of the men and they headed out to the balcony where the others were already slipping away on ropes. Their dark cloaks rendered them invisible in the predawn light. In fact, everything was growing darker by the moment.

Sinking back down to lay on the floor, Palos gasped for air that never seemed to fill his lungs properly. Why was there so much red everywhere? The servants were going to be furious with the mess… he needed to clean it before anyone got in trouble! Feebly, he reached out a hand, smearing it through the bloody puddle and accidentally brushed against King Fanel’s fallen sword.

Seeing it lying there, unsheathed and covered in blood seemed so wrong somehow and Palos stared at it for several long moments as his vision began to narrow. The golden crest saturated in a crimson background, it was strangely beautiful to his eyes in that instant as he thought that it looked almost like the head of a dragon.

“I’m sorry King Fanel…. Lord Albatou…” It was so hard to keep his eyes open and dimly, he realized that he was dying. Still, he thought distantly, it was a kinder fate than he’d just sentenced those two kids to. All of this time, he’d thought that Dilandau was the greatest threat to Astoria… but in the end, it turned out to be him. His pride and fear had blinded him and he’d wilfully allowed it to happen. How many would die because of his arrogant mistake? He really was nothing but a coward and he’d just handed his heroes into darkness.

“I was an idiot…. Jeture forgive me… keep them safe…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... that night sort of escalated quickly. See! Palos did have a point in being in the story!! lousy little coward! Karma is a cruel bitch. I feel bad for poor Dilandau really in this chapter, he's had his heart ripped out and stomped on, all sorts of horrible revelations about himself and his past and JUST as he might be learning to make the best of things and grow from the whole experience, he gets that final kick in the nuts and is right back at square one! 
> 
> Will he survive his upcoming ordeals with his sanity at all intact? Will Van survive what's to come or will he follow in Dilandau's footsteps and embrace the madness? Will Celena step up and help out? How will Allen handle losing his sibling again and will Gaddes confess his part in all of this mess to his best friend? Just how far will Shroden go with his mad plans for war and what does he have planned for our two poor draconians?
> 
> Stay tuned for Dragon in the Ruins!


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